Prisoner of war
by Droom
Summary: Alfred, a young soldier on the American side, falls into the hands of the Germans. Will he ever get back home? Story about the worldwars. Rated T just to be sure.
1. Chapter 1 The gas is coming!

**((I would love to get reviews! Ideas about what can happen in the story are also very welcome. How more reviews, how quicker the next chapter will be on))**

The trenches were full of mud, every few meters a soldier with a rifle, shooting at the enemy. Alfred was running towards the other end as fast as he could, he had to deliver the message to his superiors. Regularly a big explosion boomed through the sky, throwing dirt into the trenches. They were under attack by the Germans.

His heart was pounding like crazy of fear and exhaustion. The piece of paper was already covered in blood and mud, almost unreadable. But Alfred knew what was in the letter. And it wasn't really good news. A huge explosion knocked him of his feet, falling into the mud. For a few seconds, the only thing he could hear was a beeping sound, kind of annoying actually he thought.

Then slowly the sound started to return, screaming of injured people, bombs still raining down on them. Alfred crawled back on his feet and tried to run, but he was still to dizzy. He put his hand on the wall for support. And then suddenly the most terrifying yell of all. ''Gas! The gas is coming!'' the voice sounded in panic, without any hope left. Alfreds heart stopped for a moment, his eyes widen with fear.

He saw his fellow soldiers grabbing for their gasmasks. ''Remember the training…remember the training'' he kept repeating to himself, as a mantra. But he was too paniced to keep calm, especially when he noticed he had lost his gasmask. He was going to die! He thought in panic.

The young soldier wished he was back home, scared like hell. He was only 18 years old, just old enough to go into the army and fight for his country. Alfred had counted the days until he had been able to enlist. His family wasn't happy about it but they accepted his choice eventually. Now, he could only think about the green hills at his own village, a calm and peaceful life.

Alfred looked back and saw the gas coming, a cloud moving towards him, soldiers running away from it. When he finally regained control of his muscles, he turned around and started running, away from the poisonous gas. The letter, he dropped, but he was too scared to think about that. The gas was gaining terrain, coming closer and closer.

The bombing had stopped, just like the shooting. Alfred stumbled over a rifle laying on the ground, a dead soldier next to it. He gagged in disgust but saw the gas coming closer. The young soldier tried climbing out of the trench, into no-mans land, his feet not finding much grip as the ground beneath them began to crumble and slide down.

By then, the gas reached Alfred, making him cough terribly. His eyes felt like hot coals, dropping tears until Alfred was totally blinded by them. His lungs felt like they were burned alive. He managed to get out of the trench, lying down totally exhausted. He saw green uniforms coming closer, before blacking out.

The next thing he saw a ceiling, a grey and boring ceiling. His eyes still ached so he closed them rapidly. Slowly, he was remembering he wasn't at home in America, nor in the trenches. His home had white ceilings and the sleeping places in the trenches were dark. Alfred was thinking deeply to figure out where he was.

He felt he was lying on a trestle-bed, no blankets or pillow. He also didn't hear the snorting of his fellow soldiers. His eyes widened in panic when he felt something heavy around his ankle, before closing them again and putting his hands over them, moaning softly. When he recovered a bit, he peeked a bit, looking at his right ankle. It was indeed what he expected, a chain. His gun was missing, just as his knife. But he was still wearing his uniform, smelling like the gas.

He was clearly not in the trenches. Slowly, the memories returned, the trenches, the letter and the gas. And the green uniforms. Alfred looked around, his eyes only opened a bit. He saw the chain around his ankle was tied to the wall. There weren't any bars around him so he wasn't in a cell.

He could hear voices, not in familiar English but in a harsh, barbaric sounding language. German, he supposed. The door opened, light falling in and someone entered. ''Aah, die lazy American has woken up'' the figure in the doorframe said. The voice had a pretty bad accent and it took a while before Alfred understood what the German was saying.

''Was is your name?'' the foreign soldier asked, doing a few paces towards him and closing the door behind him. Alfred glared at him, although it was rather difficult with almost closed eyes, and refused to answer. ''You damn nazi! Where are my friends?!'' he shouted angrily, before starting to cough, sounding like he was choking. The effect of the gas had still not faded away.


	2. Chapter 2 Bratwurst und Kartoffeln

**((I would love to get reviews! Ideas about what can happen in the story are also very welcome. How more reviews, how quicker the next chapter will be on))**

It took a while before Alfred could breath again, gasping franticly and clutching his stomach. ''Ludwig, was ist loss? Brauchen Sie Hilfe?'' a other voice from outside the room sounded. ''Nein, danke'' the soldier responded, before again turning to Alfred. ''You calm. You hurt, gasattack'' he said, struggling to find words.

The American looked at him. The soldier was about his age, maybe a year older. His eyes piercing blue, blonde hair and clearly taller than Alfred was. The perfect nazi, Alfred thought angrily.

Alfred put his legs over the edge of the bed and again asked his question, his time slower so the enemy could probably understand him. ''Where are my friends?'' he asked, pronouncing the words like he was talking to a deaf person. But the other soldier shook his head and said something, not in understandable English but in the strange German. ''Sie sind tot.''

Alfred didn't understand what he was saying and looked at him in confusion. What was that nazi saying? The German could see he didn't understand it and made a sign. He put a finger to his troath and made a cutting motion. Dead? Were his friends dead? All of them?

Jack, with his two younger brothers in New York. Tom, already married and with a house in Texas. Matthew, the Canadian who was recovering from a gas attack a few weeks ago, separated from the soldiers from his own country. Were they all dead? Killed by those nazi's?

The German left and returned with a plate of food. The water was running into his mouth, he hadn't had a good meal in weeks, maybe months. The rumors were clearly true, the Germans were still getting good food to eat.

''Here, you eat'' he said while putting the plate infront of him. Alfred looked at the food for a moment, his stomach aching. He wanted the food but he also didn't want to eat that German rubbish. ''I'm not eating that nazi food!'' he shouted furiously at him, pushing the plate away. The soldier raised an eyebrow and sighed deeply.

''Ludwig'' he said. ''What?'' Alfred responded, not knowing what the German was trying to say now. The soldier repeated what he just said and pointed at himself. It was slowly getting to Alfred that the soldier just told him his name.

The German grabbed something from his pocket, a small metal thing. He pointed at him and said Alfred. Alfred frowned and looked suspiciously at the German, how did he even know about his name? The soldier held the metal thing up so he could see it. It was his dog tag, a thing all soldiers wore so they could be indentified quickly when they died on the battle field.

Alfred put his hand to his neck, checking for his dog tag but it was gone, the one in the Germans hands was real. ''Give back'' he snarled irritated, reaching with his hand. Ludwig pulled his handback, not returning the metal thing. ''No, you go to camp. You prisoner of war. ''

The German turned around and walked away, Alfred noticed he was slightly limping. Just before he shut the door he started talking again. ''Not run away and eat food'' he said, while locking the door.

Alfred shouted some cursing words, mostly English but in the time he had been in the trenches, he also picked up some German words to express anger. The door didn't open again and the smell of the food spread through the room. His stomach ache was getting worse and he shortly looked at the food. It was way better then the food in their own camp, boiled potatoes and sausage. Although it was German, it looked good. And he had to keep up strength if he wanted to escape, no? Finally, he decided he was going to eat it. Alfred quickly ate the food, his hunger disappearing bit by bit.

When he was done, he got up from the bed and walked as far as the chain would let him. Alfred could almost touch the door, but he was just not close enough. The rest of the room was empty, only the trestle-bed. Through the window of the door, he could see a wall of dirt. So he was still in a trench. The soldiers of his land were surely not far away, judging by the sound of guns.

Alfred checked the end of the chain, trying to pry it loose. But the end was stuck in the concrete, he would need a hammer to get himself out and even with the right tools, it would take hours. He sighed frustrated and sat back down on the bed.

He wanted to go back to his family, slightly regretting he ever enlisted for the war. They said the war wouldn't take long, they said it would only take a few months. But it was already going on for three years and the end was still not in sight. Although the Germans seemed they were invincible, if they still had this kind of food left for prisoners.

''Noooo… let me sleep'' he grumbled while turning to his other side when he felt someone shaking his shoulder, slapping away the hand. But the person wouldn't give up that easily. ''C'mon mom, it's not that late. Just a few more minutes'' while he kept his eyes closed. The person started grinning. ''Ich are not your Mutti'' he responded.

Alfred sat up rapidly, surprised by the unknown voice. He saw he wasn't at home, but still in the German trench. The German was still grinning at him. ''You eat'' he said while pointing at the empty plate. ''Good, good'' The soldier signed to someone. Another soldier entered the room, clearly older and a higher ranked soldier, maybe a commandant.

The man sat down glaring at the American. ''Ist er ein Amerikaner?'' the commandant asked, spitting out the last word. Ludwig translated into English. ''He ask, you American?'' Alfred nodded, glaring back at the commandant. The soldier of his own age wasn't that bad, atleast not as grumpy as the new one. ''Wo sind die amerikanischen Soldaten?'' the commandant asked, while putting a map infront of Alfred. Even without the translation, Alfred understood that the commandant wanted him to point out where the army of the Americans was.

''I don't know, bastard'' he growled back furiously, earning a hit in the face by the commandant. ''Sag mir, du Schwein!'' he shouted in anger. The shape of a red hand was left on his cheek but Alfred refused to tell where his friends where. ''I don't know'' he said, again prouncing the words clearly and slow. ''Er sagt, er weiß nicht wo die amerikanischen Soldaten sind.'' Ludwig translated into the language of the enemy. But the commandant wasn't giving up that easily and kept interrogating him for hours and hours.

Alfred kept repeating the three words, I don't know. He actually really didn't know where his fellow Americans where hiding but even if he did, he wouldn't betray them just like that. Finally, the angry German was sick of it, got up and cursed him, before pacing out. Ludwig stood up also, looking pitiful at him before also leaving. ''You make important enemy'' he said about the commandant. ''Not good'' the lock turned again and Alfred was again alone, his cheek was still burning from the hit.


	3. Chapter 3 Barbed wire is a bad omen

**((I would love to get reviews! Ideas about what can happen in the story are also very welcome. How more reviews, how quicker the next chapter will be on))**

Days came and days went, every single day the commandant asked the same question and every time Alfred responded with the same answer. It was getting quite boring.

But this morning it was different, the commandant wasn't there. Instead, another German soldier entered the room and started shouting orders in German. Alfred glared at him, he was able to see everything again, recovered from the gas attack.

He saw a soldier freeing him from the chain around his ankle, while at the same time his wrists were bound behind his back. Nobody even seemed to bother to tell him where he was going, they just pushed the young American out of the room, into the trenches. It was much like the American trenches, only this one was less muddy and the flags were the opposite of the ones hanging in their trenches. It seemed way more organized. Alfred felt a hand in his back, pushing him through the narrow corridor.

When he was out of the German trench, he saw a carriage. Or actually not really a carriage, more like a few wooden planks bound together with some rope and two horses infront of it. A farmcart, most likely stolen from a farmer in the area. For a moment, Alfred thought the two armies made a agreement, exchange of prisoners of war.

But he then remembered what the German soldier told him _''No, you go to camp. You prisoner of war. '' _He wasn't going home, he was going to a camp. He got pushed up the cart, a lot of German soldiers following him. There were wounded soldiers and dead bodies on the cart. The first stop was at a church, the dead bodies were dropped off. There was no time to bury them by themselves, the church had to take care of that.

The next stop was at a hospital. Alfred was glad about that, the wounded had been moaning in pain, it was even unbearable to see what kind of injuries they had. He had tried to look away from them but he could still hear them. From that point on, the ride was long. It took many hours before they again stopped at a camp. It wasn't the camp where Alfred would be imprisoned, no, it was a German army camp where new recruits were trained.

Alfred was pulled of the cart and pushed roughly into the camp. The American cursed in a response to the rough treatment. ''You bloody nazi's, go to hell!'' he snarled, getting a slap at the back of his head. The new recruits, some even younger than he was, were looking at him in curiosity. This was the enemy, a soldier with a torn uniform, his hands bound behind his back.

This was the enemy they would be fighting against in a few more months. Alfred glared furiously at them, those recruits were going to kill his friends. And he could do nothing about it! Alfred felt a push in his back and fell on his knees into the cell, the door closed while the Germans were laughing at him.

The cell smelled musty and there was a thin layer of straw inside. Alfred couldn't see much, as the only light was coming from a small window, in front of it metal bars to keep anyone inside from escaping. If he had been able to do that, his hands still tied behind his back. Alfred was cursing under his breath.

He knew he wasn't at the camp yet, it would take at least another day, maybe more. But now most of the soldiers had left the cart, he might had a chance to escape tomorrow. Alfred scraped some straw together to make some kind of a bed and lied down on it. It wasn't much but at least it was something.

He was woken by a kick in the guts, coughing and gasping for air, he tried to sit up. The Germans were again grinning, grabbing him by his upperarm and jerking him up. Alfred was still slightly bend over, the pain in his stomach wouldn't leave quickly. ''Raus!'' the German orderd, while dragging him out of the cell. He was again pushed onto the cart, the recruits again staring at him like he was an animal in a zoo. The coachman cracked the whip and the horses started walking.

The cart was again full of soldiers, only younger ones, much more cautious than the wounded ones from yesterday. When Alfred moved a few inches towards the edge of the cart, he was immediately grabbed and pulled back.

The towers of the camp appeared in the distance, making a macabre sight. Soldier with rifles were walking up and down in the camp, alongside the fence with barbed wire on top of it. The cart entered the camp, while the German soldiers at the gate looked suspiciously at the American.

Alfred was getting nervous, he was really in a camp now, a camp of the enemy. He saw people, no, more like shadows of people looking at the cart before walking into one of the barracks. They were clearly the inmates here. Two nazis grabbed him and pulled him of the cart, dragging him towards a big building in the center of the camp. Alfred was growling curses at them, almost tripping over his own feet.

Inside of the building there was a huge line of people, German soldiers standing spread throughout the room with guns in their hands. In front, a few desks with soldiers behind them, writing on paper. It was too quick to see everything because Alfred was getting pushed further, through the door.

'Herr Kommandant '' The German soldiers greeted the man, who was also sitting behind a desk, but more richly decorated. The man nodded and again looked at his papers. ''Er ist der amerikanische Kriegsgefangener'' the soldier said. The man waved his hand shortly, to sign to them not to disturb him. ''Baracke C'' he said shortly before Alfred again got pushed out.

They again passed alongside the line of people, having a yellow 6 pointed star on their clothing. At the end of the line, they received camp clothing, also with a yellow star on it. Alfred pitied them, there were even children among them, also babies! But he got pushed forward, outside of the building and towards a barrack, probably C.

There, they finally cut the ropes around his wrists, who already started to bleed. The Germans left and Alfred was standing in the middle of a barack, his new home. About 50 pairs of eyes were looking in Alfreds direction. ''Privjet!'' was the first thing that was shouted to him, by someone lying on a bed. Alfred tilted his head, not understanding what the man was trying to say.

Then another man shouted something to him. ''Hallo!'' Alfred glared angrily at the man, a German, judging to what he was saying. The man seemed to understand why he was glaring like him in that way and added a word. ''Nederland'' aah, the Netherlands, so it was a Dutchy instead of a German. And then finally, a familiar shout went through the air. ''Hello! Are you British?'' Alfreds mood lightnend up when he finally, after weeks and weeks of German, heard a English voice.

''No, I'm an American!'' he shouted back, the other two prisoners lost their interest and again were staring at the ceiling. Alfred tried to figure out where the English voice was coming from. ''Where are you?'' he asked. A hand rose in the air. ''I'm here!'' Alfred walked towards him, seeing a man, maybe a few years older. ''I'm Arthur, England'' the soldier said, while getting up from his bed. ''Alfred, America'' he responded, shaking hands.


	4. Chapter 4 Ditches of blood

**((I would love to get reviews! Ideas about what can happen in the story are also very welcome. How more reviews, how quicker the next chapter will be on))**

The British soldier told him about how things were in camp, about the guards and the other prisoners. He also told him about how he got captured.

'' Just a few weeks before, I got assigned to join the cavalary. One day, my horse got into a fight with another horse, loosing and running away. I was too late to grab him immediately so I borrowed a horse from another soldier, a friend of mine, and went looking for the gelding. After hours of looking, I found him. When I returned to camp, the camp was gone. Everywhere burned remains from tents, dead soldiers everywhere. The horses were gone and so was the British flag. Instead of turning around and making sure I got the hell out of there, no, stupid me, started to search the campsite for my friends. I never found them, but the Germans did found me''

Arthur sighed deeply. ''They stayed around to get the bodies of their fellow soldiers and hid when they heard me and the horses coming. They thought the auxiliaries had arrived, but when they only saw me, they got from their hiding places and captured me. And that's how I end up here, in barack C''

He told about the other prisoners, about the Russian who had been shot, then saved by some civilian who took him into his home to take care for him as long as he was injured. But some neighbor spotted him when he was standing infront of a window and just a few hours later, the Germans had found him and taken him to this camp. The Russian didn't know what happened to the man who had taken him in, but he expected the worse.

The Dutchy hadn't been a soldier but a member of the Dutch resistance. He and a few others had set fire to a German police post. He was the only one who didn't got away quickly enough and got caught. His biggest problem was his age, just 16 years old. Although he seemed older, he was in big trouble if the Germans found out about his real age. To prevent difficult paperwork, the only answer of the nazis would be a single gunshot.

Arthur told about a few more, but he couldn't talk to the most of them. English was his only language and there weren't many other who also spoke that language. Arthur was glad there was finally someone else who also had English as native.

''The food isn't really good over here, but at least it is something'' he said to Alfred. The young soldier felt his stomach aching, he hadn't eaten for the last two days. ''Every day there's work we have to do, it's though and hard so most of us only sleep after they are done'' Arthur looked at the rest of the barack, some were talking to eachother but most were asleep. ''If you don't…'' Arthur suddenly shut up and signed to another group who was talking.

The sign was seen by one of them and the group also became quiet, looking at the opening door infront of the barack. A few German soldiers were on patrol, checking if everything was still calm. After that, they again left the barack, the conversations continued. ''It's forbidden to talk any language except German. But most can't, so they have to be quiet if a patrol walks by. If you see a German soldier coming close enough to hear us, you got to warn the rest, just make sure the Germans don't notice it.''

The food was indeed horrible, if even a Brit was saying it was disgusting. But it was the only thing to eat, and hunger won from taste. The room was heavily guarded, every few meters a soldier. Alfred glared at them while eating, he saw the other prisoners eating quickly. It would be much harder to escape from here then from the trenches he had been for the last week. In silence, he cursed at himself for not doing that.

Alfred climbed into bed, it was a bunk bed, existing out of three beds. The top bed was Arthurs, the one below his and the bed at the bottom from the Dutchy. The mattresses were just sacks, filled with straw. It took hours before he finally fell asleep, worried about what was going to happen.

In the middle of the night he was woken by a loud thud. Confused, he looked over the edge of his bed, seeing Arthur on the ground. ''What are you doing over there?'' he asked surprised. ''Examining the floor'' he grumbled while getting off the ground and back of his feet. ''Falling out of bed, what did you think I was doing?'' Alfred grinned. ''Those bloody beds are way to small'' Arthur grumbled while climbing back in bed. ''This is already the fourth time this happened to me''

The next morning they were woken by shouts in German. ''Schnell, schnell!'' Alfred saw Arthur quickly folding the blankets at the end of his bed and standing next to the bunk. Alfred tried to fold the blankets just like Arthur did, although he didn't know why and was down just in time when the German soldier passed. Everyone passed the first check of the day.

The prisoners got each a piece of bread before they were led to the place where they would dig ditches. Alfred didn't understand why but Arthur signed him not to ask. Everyone got a shovel and was ordered to start digging. Behind them were German soldiers, their guns pointed at them. If anyone slowed down or stopped for a moment, the nazis would hit him back to work.

Alfred was already exhausted and he still had a whole day of work coming, from the corners of his eyes he could see the Dutchy. The teen seemed to be as tired as he was, but he kept pushing himself to keep up work. The pile of dirt next to him became bigger and bigger and soon Alfred wasn't able to see the others anymore. He placed the shovel again in the mud and rested for a moment. But it wasn't long until a nazi found out he wasn't working, slamming the back of his gun on Alfreds back, making him fall.

''Arbeiten, du Schwein!'' the soldier shouted at him. Alfred crawled back on his feet and sent him an angry glare. The soldier just lifted his rifle and pointed it at him. The shovel was lifted off the ground again and he continued digging. His arms felt heavy and were aching like they were on fire.

Finally, after hours and hours of work, the Germans finally commanded them to stop digging and get out of the ditches. As they were walking back, Alfred asked whispering to Arthur where the ditches were for. ''You will hear tonight'' Arthur whispered back.

Back in the barack, Alfred fell down on his bed, too tired to do anything else, Arthur and the dutchy also didn't waste precious sleep time. It was a few hours later, when Alfred was woken by shooting and screaming outside. ''That's why we are digging ditches'' Arthur mumbled to Alfred.

He felt a sickening feeling in his stomach, this couldn't be happening, just a few hundreds of meters away. But still, what could he do about it? The Germans were the ones having the guns in their hands.


	5. Chapter 5 A forbidden language

**((I would love to get reviews! Ideas about what can happen in the story are also very welcome. How more reviews, how quicker the next chapter will be on))**

The first thing he felt in the morning was the terrible muscle ache. He could barely move because of the pain. But the Germans were already shouting for them to get up. Alfred had trouble folding the blankets correctly, seeing the soldiers coming closer to their bunk. The muscle ache reminded him of the first weeks in the army, a harsh and difficult training.

But as a recruit, these kind of unimportant things like folding your blankets correctly weren't punished, it would only result in a admonition and in the worst case a sermon. Alfred already found out that the Germans weren't as easy as the Americans, especially not in camps. Arthur noticed him having great difficulty and quickly folded the blanket for him. Alfred jumped of his bed just in time when the nazi was standing in front of their bunk, looking irritated because he had lost the reason to give him a beating.

A small smile appeared on Alfreds face but quickly disappeared when the soldier again looked in his direction. ''Nochmals!'' the nazi shouted to him, although he was just inches away from him, while unfolding the blanket and throwing it to Alfred. The American glared shortly at him before folding the blanket slowly.

He felt the eyes of everyone in the room, Axis and Allies, staring at him. Alfred put the blanket on his bed and started folding. One time double, second time double and then dividing it into three pieces, first left over the middle part and then the right one. Alfred made sure the lines on the blanket were perfectly in place when he turned around.

''Done'' he said victorious. But at the same time, he could hear the Dutchy holding his breath with a gasping sound. The nazi in front of him smirked evil. ''Nur Deutsch sprechen!'' he said. Then the nazi turned to Arthur and the Dutchy. ''Kein Essen für euch heute, weil ein von euch eine verbotene Sprache hat gesprochen.''

Alfred glared angrily at the soldier. ''Sie nicht haben getan!'' he said in broken German. ''Wenn du noch einmal etwas sagt, zwei tagen ohne Essen!'' the nazi snarled back furiously. Alfred shut his mouth, he understood that he could better shut up now to prevent his friends getting harmed.

The nazi signed to two other soldiers, who grabbed a upper arm each and dragged him out of the barrack. Alfred looked over his shoulder to Arthur, who seemed worried. Outside, Alfred could see the Jews being checked too, although it was done with more shouting and yelling.

Alfred got dragged to a corner of the camp, out of sight of barrack C. The leader of the patrol was also coming with them. ''Niemand kann ohne Strafe Regeln brechen'' he said. Alfred was already expecting what was about to happen and braced himself for the first hit.

The first one hit him in his face, a nosebleed as result. Before he could recover from the first one, the other two Germans had let go of his arms and also started beating him. A punch in the guts made him fall on his knees, gasping for air while clutching his stomach.

But the nazis weren't done yet. They didn't stop until he wasn't trying to get back on his feet anymore. '' Schwächling'' the leader of them mumbled and ordered the other two to drag Alfred back to the barrack, wiping the blood of his hand with a handkerchief.

The Dutchy and Arthur were still there, forbidden to go to get breakfast. The Germans dropped Alfred just a few feet into the barrack, turned around and walked away. Arthur paced towards him, a worried look on his face. ''Are you okey?'' he asked.

Alfred looked up, trying to smile. ''Why shouldn't I be okey?'' he asked with a small smile. ''Help me up'' he asked, grabbing the arm of Arthur. His body was even aching worse, just because a word, just because of four letters, said before thinking about it. It was clear that the leader of the patrol just hated him. Arthur helped him to stand on his feet, although Alfred was still a bit unstable. ''I'm sorry for bringing trouble to you guys'' he apologized to Arthur and the Dutchy. ''Ooh it's okey, the other will surely share their food with us, we always do that when someone of our barrack gets punished'' he said back, not wanting Alfred to worry about them.

''But you must get yourself cleaned up before the work starts, we don't got much time left'' he said, while trying to communicate to the Dutchy. ''Water'' he said. The Dutchy nodded and returned a minute later with a bucket half full of water. Alfred cleaned his face and his hair, which were stained with blood. His shirt and pants also needed cleaning but he hadn't enough time to do that right now, he would do that after they returned.

After drinking something, he felt much better. The bruises would fade away with time and he would surely be more careful when the Germans were around.

Just the third day in camp and he already had gotten into trouble. The rest of the day, the Germans were watching him closely, cursing if they thought he had slowed down working. ''Du wirst meine Regeln nicht wieder brechen, hast du das verstehen?!'' the leader had snarled to him when they returned to their barrack. Alfred had just nodded exhausted.

Back in the barracks, Arthur had proven to be right, almost everyone had still some bread left for them to eat. At least his friends wouldn't be punished for his mistakes, he was glad about that. But when he washed his shirt, he noticed the numerous bruises on his body, purple, black and blue. And that was only for speaking English, what would they do if they caught him escaping? Because Alfred was still thinking about an escape, he wasn't planning on staying here the whole war!

Arthur explained to him why they had taken him out of the barrack instead of just beating him where he stood. The Germans were scared of their numbers, the whole camp consisted about 700 prisoners and only 50 guards. If they had beaten him right on the spot, there was a possibility one of the other prisoners had gotten that angry that he attacked one of the guards, the rest of the prisoners would easily have joined him and start the rebellion. To prevent that, they always took prisoners of war out of their barracks to beat them. In other barracks, they didn't really care about that, those prisoners were already scared to death when they saw a German.


	6. Chapter 6 Eight empty beds

**((As requested, Gilbert is in the story! But now the problem: Are Gilbert and Ludwig brothers in this story? Or just two random Germans? Please PM or review your opinion about this problem))**

Every Tuesday, new prisoners were brought to the camp, on rest of the days none. Except for the POW, because there weren't as many of them in this camp, they could arrive any day in the week. This evening, just before Alfred climbed into his bed, a strangely looking man was pushed into the barracks. The Germans left him and the same ritual repeated.

A privjet from the Russian, a hello from Alfred but the new prisoner wasn't responding. Then the Dutchy shouted a hallo to him, the new prisoner turned to where the voice was coming from, the other POWs lost their interest, just another Dutchy. They returned to whatever they had been doing before the prisoner entered the barrack. The teen walked towards him and started talking in Dutch to him. ''Hallo! Hoe gaat het?'' he said to the prisoner.

The whole barrack became quiet when they heard the new one responding. ''Was sagst du? Ich kann dich nicht verstehen'' the man said. The Dutchy froze in his tracks. The expression on their faces changed, some jumped of their beds and did a few threatening paces towards him. ''A bloody German…'' Arthur whispered in shock to Alfred. The new one did a step back when the Russian walked towards him, his sleeves rolled up. ''Whoo! Stehen bleiben! Ich bin kein nazi!'' He held his arms protectively in front of himself.

But the Russian already grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him a few inches off the ground. ''Du sind Deutsch, warum du sind hier?'' he asked angrily with a heavy accent. The man was making chocking sound and tried to pry the fingers around the collar of his shirt away. 'Fahn…enflücht…iger'' he managed to say, his face becoming red because of the lack of oxygen. It took a while before the meaning of the word became clear to the Russian. '' дезертир'' he said to his fellow Russians while dropping the deserter on the ground.

The Dutchy wasn't sure about what to do, it was still a German although he ran from the army. The German was gasping for air on the ground, slowly his face returned to his original color. ''Er ist verrückt…'' he mumbled while glaring at the Russian. The prisoners ignored him, but also kept looking at him from the corners of their eyes.

Arthur started talking to the German and found out he had been in the army for months. Finally, he just couldn't take it anymore. He had been told the army was awesome, but it was only murder and killing, waiting until the moment you weren't that lucky anymore and would die.

He had run off in the middle of the night, towards the border. He had almost escaped but he ran into a patrol. After that, he was send to camp and that was how he ended up here. The German guards in the camp hated him, they yelled insults to him like being a traitor and a bad German.

They didn't have much time to talk because the next morning they again had to work. Tomorrow it would be Monday, the day before the new prisoners would arrive. The ditches had to be done before Tuesday. Alfred tried not to think about where they were using the ditches for, but there were always less prisoners after the shots at night.

Alfred was worried that one day, his friends or himself would be the ones in front of the guns. The Dutch teen Mark had a nasty cough since a few days. And yesterday, Arthur again had fallen out of bed, when Alfred had grabbed his hand to help him back on his feet, he could feel the bones, just beneath the skin, like the hand of a skeleton.

Alfred had noticed he himself had lost some weight but he wasn't near to their states. The rations of the POW had been cut down, just enough to keep their lungs breathing and their hearts pounding.

The German, Gilbert, clearly hadn't much trouble with things like folding the blankets, because he had been taught to do it when he was really young. His parents had been strict and his whole life he was told he would become a soldier.

The guards seemed to especially hate Gilbert, giving him the hardest work and beating him even when he didn't deserve it. The other prisoners still didn't seem to trust him, avoiding him as much as possible. Even conversations in their native language stopped if Gilbert passed by.

But Gilbert kept hope, he kept hoping that this war would be over some day. And if that day came, he wanted to go and live in America, the land of freedome. Because of that, Alfred and Arthur tried to learn him how to speak English, he would need it if he wanted to get out of Germany. ''I are Gilbert'' he said. Arthur shook his head, he seemed to be a bit irritated. Alfred grinned softly, Arthur had told Gilbert many many times it was I am, but he kept making the same mistake over and over again. ''I /am/'' Arthur repeated, slowly. ''I are bedeuted ich sind''

A guard was coming dangerously close to their barrack and Alfred tapped Arthur on his shoulder to warn him. The guards wasn't alone, he entered the barrack and started shouting. ''Raus! Raus! Schnell!'' They pushed the prisoners out to the square outside, ordering them to make a line, shoulder to shoulder.

Alfred noticed the Dutchy wasn't among them, he frowned lightly. The leader of the patrol walked past the line, pointing out a few of them. Alfred saw the 8 as they were pushed out of the line, one of them was the Polish man who had been here the longest. They weren't the most healthy of them, some actually looked more like ghosts than people. They disappeared out of sight, behind a few buildings, German guards following them. The rest of the line was ordered to go back to the barrack.

The Dutchy was still inside, even paler than before. Arthur had told him to stay inside, not trusting what the Germans were up to. Everyone continued what they were doing before the guards entered the barrack, but it was more silent. As like they were waiting for something. A few minutes later, Alfred heard shots, ''1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8'' he counted them softly. The whole barrack was quiet, some of them held their right hand against their heart. Alfred looked at the empty beds, just 10 minutes ago they were still alive.

He saw prisoners from other barracks walking towards the place where they heard the shots, having shovels in their hands. Alfred lay down on his bed on his back, his face covered with his hands, tears running over his cheeks.


	7. Chapter 7 A new guard arrives

**((I want to warn everybody, do not use this fanfic as a substitute for your German lessons at school. I make mistakes on purpose when a non-German is talking. So I'm sorry, just open those books and start studying! Ludwig will hunt you down if you make mistakes like these in German.))**

But life continued, after a few days the names of the deaths weren't mentioned any more. Their beds were occupied by new prisoners, most likely the reason why the other eight had to make place. Barrack C was crowded, every single bed was taken. But winter had to come, it was already November and snowflakes were falling down from the skies. The ground was becoming harder to dig into and it cost more energy than usual. The bread had been removed from their rations, only soup was left. Mark had an even worse cough, sometimes it seemed like he couldn't catch his breath anymore.

The prisoners were separated into group to work. Some worked in the morning and some in the afternoon. Arthur, the Dutchy, the Russian and he were put into the afternoon group. It atleast meant that they could rest some more in the cold mornings. They didn't get any more blankets or better clothing, most of them still wore the uniform they had received when they joined the army in their homeland. It was easier for the Germans to recognize them as POW.

It was morning, the first group had already left to start work. Alfred stared at the wall in front of him, thinking about a way to escape. Arthur had just looked sadly at him when he told him about his plan. ''It's never going to work, you can't escape from here'' he had mumbled. ''I won't give up that easily'' Alfred had replied.

He saw the rest of the barrack sleeping, a unhealthy pale color on their faces. There were rumors about the flu, there was said there were casualties in the other barracks. Alfred tried to avoid sick looking people as much as possible, if you fell ill, you would most certainly die. Medicine was only for the German guards.

He saw someone entering the barrack and turned his head towards him. It was a soldier, but the weird thing, he was alone. Mostly, the Germans only entered a barrack with at least one other guards for safety, it was protocol. Alfred sat up straight and held a close eye on the nazi, who didn't seem to notice him yet, walking into the barrack, past the bunks.

Alfred had the feeling he knew the nazi, but he wasn't sure. It was certainly not one of the guards, he would have recognized him easily. He softly got of his bed and walked towards him, the German had turned his back on him and didn't see him coming.

''Why…erhm…warum bist Sie hier?'' he asked. He needed to know if he had to wake the Dutchy to let him seek a hiding place. The German was clearly startled but tried to hide it as he turned around. A look of surprise appeared on both of their faces, it was the German from the trenches. ''You still living'' the man said with surprise now he saw Alfred in front of him.

Alfred heard one of the POW turning around in their sleep, he didn't want them to wake up and see him talking to a German guard, they are suspiciously enough about the fact that he talks to the German deserter. ''Did they find the rest of the American army?'' he asked, anxious to know about their fate.

But Ludwig shook his head. ''No, we no find they. New German soldiers come , I sent away to camp because bad leg'' Alfred remembered that the soldier had been limping when he left to the camp. Ludwig had told him back then that it was because of a bullet wound which didn't seem to heal. Alfred could see the German wasn't happy about being sent away, he knew Ludwig wanted to fight against the enemy.

Alfred changed the subject, hearing Mark cough in his sleep. ''Can you get some medicine? He's sick'' he tried to persuade the nazi. Ludwig frowned shortly and walked towards the teen. Mark seemed even younger when he was asleep, when he was awake, he tried to seem as tall as possible and even made with a razer a small cut in his cheek, like he had cut himself while shaving. He did everything to seem as old as possible, most guards were tricked by it.

Ludwig hesitated for a moment, seeing a feverish color on the teens face. ''He are young. How much years?'' he asked, turning to Alfred. ''Eighteen!'' he quickly lied, while he saw Ludwig reaching for the pistol on his belt. ''He's 18 years old!'' Alfred bit his tongue, hoping the guard would fall for the lie. Ludwig again looked at the sleeping Mark and got up again, his hand moving away from the pistol. ''I will look medicine, no promised'' he said while leaving the barrack.

Alfred sighed relieved, Mark had one more day to live at least. All those Germans were just the same, no mercy for anyone. Even a sick kid could have been killed!

But Ludwig only returned when the morning-group went back to the barrack. He wasn't carrying any medicine and shook his head when Alfred looked at him hopefully.

The day of work seemed even harder, they had to built a new barrack. Tomorrow, they would have to put the rooftiles on the top. For today, they were putting the doors in place and the last support beams under the roof.

Alfred held a close eye on Mark, standing next to him, helping where ever he could. He saw the teen having great difficuilty with the heavy beams and the eyes of the guards were piercing in their backs.

Alfred was praying for a miracle, a miracle that could save this teens life. Mark had tried to prevent coughing when guards where around it also made breathing harder.

**((Please, sent your opinion about Ludwig and Gilbert already knowing each other, being brothers, friends or just acquaintances. If I get enough opinions, the next chapter will be on in three hours!))**


	8. Chapter 8 A bullet to end a life

Arthur, the Russian and Alfred had tried to take on as much work from the Dutchy as possible, without the guards noticing. But the coughing didn't disappear. It just got worse and worse, Mark tried to hide it from them but they could hear him gasping for air at night.

Today, they had to put the tiles on the roof. It meant that they had to put about 3 or 4 tiles on their shoulder and climb the ladder with those. Because it was also Monday, the morning group was digging somewhere else. Because of that, they had to work the whole day to get the new barrack done before the end of the day.

Mark seemed even more ill when he saw the huge amount of tiles that had to be brought up the roof. But the German guards were already a few steps behind him, yelling to him that he should start working.

The first few trips weren't that hard, but after that the heavy load became more and more heavy. Alfreds shoulder felt sore while he again climbed down his ladder. He already knew there would be huge bruises on his shoulders after today.

Mark was panting, slightly shaking on his legs. The guard let another tile fall on his shoulder. ''Vier! Nicht drei!'' he snarled to the Russian who had helped him get the tiles on his shoulders.

Alfred heard the Dutchy coughing, when he looked back over his shoulder, he could only hope Mark wouldn't fall of the ladder.

For hours and hours the work continued, everyone was exhausted. Alfred sent a helpless look to Ludwig, hoping he could do something for them, at least for the teen. But he also knew the German couldn't do anything, the other guards were just a few feet away from him.

Alfred brought another load of tiles up the roof, climbed back down and walked towards the pile of tiles when he heard a crashing sound. His heart stopped for a moment. ''Please… don't let it be Mark…'' he whispered in fear, while he turned around. But he knew it was him.

The teen was lying on the ground, shattered tiles around him. His legs were softly shaking in exhaustion. Mark was heavily panting before he started coughing. This time, there appeared blood in the corners of his mouth. The teen hadn't fallen from a real height but still, his illness weren't making things much better. Mark leaned on his arm, gasping for air between the coughs. Alfred paced towards him, sinking down on one knee. He saw the terror in the eyes of Mark, afraid to die. Every cough resulted in more blood, it fell on the ground and stained his shirt.

Alfred tried to calm him down, but the teen was clearly in much pain. He tried to wipe away the blood when he saw a shadow appearing on the ground. Mark looked even more terrified.

It was Ludwig who also sank down next to the Dutchy. Then Mark again started coughing, sounding like he couldn't get any air in his lungs. Drops of blood fell on the ground. Alfred didn't know what to do, he felt like he couldn't do anything.

.

A clicking sound made Alfred look at Ludwig, the clicking sound of the removal of a safety catch of a pistol. ''Nein! Nicht tun! Er 16!'' he shouted, trying to stop him, grabbing his arm and pulling it away. Mark pushed himself away from the guard but didn't got far, falling on his back and again coughing up more blood.

Ludwig pushed Alfred away, making him fall on the ground, and held the pistol in his hand, standing up and moving towards Mark. The teen was gasping frantically, his eyes widened with fear. Alfred crawled back on his feet, desperate to save the life of the Dutchy. But Ludwig already had put the pistol against the temple of the teen.

A shot resounded between the barracks. Alfred stopped and looked at Mark. The teen, just sixteen years old. Exhausted, sick and now shot to death. Tears ran over Alfreds cheeks, looking at the body. He had seen friends die in the most horrible ways, but that was what they expected, they were prepared for death. Mark wasn't, he had still tried to fight for his life.

Ludwig cleaned his pistol with a handkerchief, put the safety catch back on and put it back. Just like killing cattle in America, at the family ranch. But it wasn't a cow, it was a human!

Alfred looked at him, anger, pain and grief in his eyes. ''Why? He was only 16…'' he muttered. It seemed like Ludwig didn't even care, his face just straight as usual. Just a few moments later, the leader of the patrol was shouting angrily at Ludwig. Not because of shooting an innocent teen, no, about wasting a bullet to kill him.

The other guards were shouting at the POW to get back to work. The Russian was ordered to drag the body away and bury it.

The rest of the day went slowly and silent. Alfred tried to block the death of the teen out of his mind but every time he went down the ladder, he saw the pool of dried blood on the ground.

It was even harder when they got back at their own barrack, the bed of the Dutchy remained empty.  
When Gilbert asked about where Mark was, he didn't immediately got an answer, just a sad look from the faces from the other POWs.

When he asked Alfred, it took a while before the American could answer, his throat painful. ''Shot…'' he finally said, tears again running from his eyes. ''Ich apologies für other Germans…'' Gilbert had mumbled back, before returning to his bunk. Alfred just wanted to be left alone.

Mark had never seen his family back or even heard about them. A small misstep on the ladder had cost him his life, being shot like a beast.

In the middle of the night, Alfred was woken by someone shaking his shoulder. ''Mark?'' he mumbled, still half sleeping, not immediately realizing it couldn't be the Dutchy. It sting hard when he remembered what happened. ''No, es is I. Get up'' he heard someone whispering. Alfred frowned angrily and growled back in fury. ''Get out! Leave me alone!'' But Ludwig wasn't giving up that easily. ''Stand up, now'' he said, this time more like an order. Alfred slowly got of his bed, sending angry glares to the guard, although he couldn't see him in the dark. Ludwig grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the barrack. ''Let go!'' Alfred hissed in anger, jerking his arm free. They were outside now, in the freezing cold. ''Look, you friend already like dead. He no live long. Other Germans no shoot him but beat him dead. I give fast dead.'' Ludwig struggled to say. ''He was just 16! A teen, for godsake! You killed him!'' Alfred snarled furiously back, feeling the tears again running down his face. ''He 16, he too young, he shoot dead by Germans.'' Ludwig stopped trying to speak English and continued in German. ''Früher oder später, sie hatten ihn getötet. Ich hatte ihn heute getötet, ich wusste er war zu jung und sehr krank. Ich hatte ihn getötet weil Hans es anders gemacht hatte. Und er gibt niemand ein schnellen Tod.'' Alfred bit his lip to stop crying. ''Er hatte nichts gefühlt'' Ludwig said about Mark.

Alfred knew he was right, the other Germans would have killed him, sooner or later. But he didn't know Ludwig knew about Marks real age. He also hadn't realized that otherwise the other guards would have ended the life of the Dutchy. Alfred remembered what Hans had yelled to Ludwig, about wasting a bullet. They would have beaten Mark to death instead of immediately shooting him in the head, making him feel as little as possible.

Ludwig softly pushed him back into the barrack. ''Go back sleep'' he whispered while turning around and walking back to the quarters of the guards.


	9. Chapter 9 Through the eyes of a murderer

It had been weeks since the American prisoner had been send to the camp. Ludwig hadn't been really happy about that, he finally had the chance to improve his English. But mostly because he knew what the situation in the camps were like. He wondered how long the American would survive over there.

But then the day came that Ludwig and a few other soldiers were send away from the front, replaced by new soldiers. That was even worse, he wanted to fight for his country! But they sent him to a camp, to be a guard over there.

Ludwig hadn't expected to see the American still alive. He had walked into the barrack, while exploring the camp. When he was inside of the barrack, standing somewhere in the middle of the building, he thought it might hadn't been a very smart idea to just walk into a barrack with about 40 sleeping angry POWs.

If they woke up, seeing him alone, it wasn't absolutely sure he would get out alive. Ludwig was about to leave the barrack again when he heard a voice talking in broken German. His heart skipped a beat and he turned around, seeing the face of the American.

He crouched down next to the bed of the Dutchy. It was clear, even from a distance, he was ill. Ludwig wasn't a doctor but he thought the Dutchy could have pneumonia, without antibiotics he wouldn't make it. The illness destroyed the lungs, making it harder and harder to breath. And it hurt like hell!

But the sleeping Dutchy didn't seem an adult, he seemed younger, no older than 17. Ludwig tried to ask Alfred how old he was. Ludwig heard someone in the barrack turning around, as a reflex, his hand went for his gun to check if it was still there. It was and he stood up from the ground. Alfred said the Dutchy was 18, but Ludwig didn't believe him. Why was he lying? He thought while looking to the Dutchy, before he promised Alfred he would try to find any medicine.

Ludwig walked out of the barrack, walking towards the quarters of the guards, hoping he would find the doctor over there. Inside, it was much warmer, he put of his coat and walked further inside, seeing the doctor sitting on the couch, reading a newspaper.

Ludwig sat in front of him and coughed once to make the doctor notice him. ''Hmm?'' the doctor replied, not looking up from the newspaper. It was about the war in France, the German army was making progress. ''Herr Arzt, There are prisoners who are ill, can't we get them some medicine?'' he asked. The doctor wasn't immediately replying, he first finished his article and looked up from the paper. ''Those Jews aren't getting anything from the medical supplies'' he said. Ludwig shook his head. ''I wasn't talking about those, I mean the POWs'' The doctor shook his head.

''In the convention of Geneva, it has been agreed that POWs should get proper medical care when they are sick'' Ludwig replied, frowning. The doctor was getting slightly irritated and put the paper down. ''And in /my/ convention it has been agreed that I decide who gets medicine and medical care and who don't. End of discussion, they aren't getting anything, not even a painkiller'' The doctor again picked up the paper and continued reading, ignoring Ludwig completely.

Hans called Ludwig, they needed an extra guard to get the morning group back to the barrack. When he got there, he felt even worse for them. Most of the POWs were skinny and looked ill and nobody was doing anything against it!

He saw Alfred looking at him, hoping for any medicine for the Dutchy. But Ludwig could only shake his head, he hadn't succeeded.

The next day, he had been scheduled to be at the building site of the new barrack. The afternoon-group was working on the roof, the tiles had to be placed.

The German guards were standing at the side, waiting and watching. It was cold, way too cold to be outside for so long. They wrapped their arms around themselves, trying to keep warm.

''I'm going to get some coffee, want some?'' Hans asked the other guards. They nodded yes, their breath was turning into steam every time they exhaled. Hans walked away and was almost at the quarters of the guards when Ludwig heard a crashing sound in front of him.

It became quiet around the buildingsite, Ludwig saw the Dutchy lying on the ground, broken tiles around him. He wasn't moving. He had fallen of the ladder, that was for sure but he had no idea from which height.

With a few paces, he was next to him. The Dutchy was still alive, looking at him like he was some kind of monster. The American was already there, wiping away the blood around his mouth. But to no avail, the blood kept coming every time he coughed.

The Dutchy really had pneumonia and a pretty bad one, his limbs shaking with exhaustion. If they picked him up and put him in bed in the barrack, he might had a small chance to survive with the right medical care. But as the doctor had said, he wasn't going to give any.

Without medicine, he was going to die anyway. The only question was how, a slow and painful death or a quick one? He knew the other guards wouldn't be as merciful, either force him to work which was obviously not an option or break his neck. Ludwig reached for his pistol, removing the safety catch. While he heard Alfred yelling at him, he put the pistol against the head of the teen.

The Dutchy was glaring furiously at him, while coughing up more blood and gasping for air. Ludwigs arm was pulled away by Alfred. He saw Hans coming back, a frown on his face and shouting at Ludwig. ''Don't waste a bullet!'' he heard.

Ludwig pushed Alfred away harshly, he wasn't going to let the suffering of the Dutchy take any longer. His only chance was now. He stood up from the ground and walked towards him, putting the end of the pistol against the temple of the teen.

The Dutchy was still fighting for his life, a mix of pain, fear and anger visible in the blue eyes of the teen.

''I'm sorry…'' he whispered to the Dutchy and then he pulled the trigger. A gunshot had never sound any harder, Ludwig thought. The gasping stopped and so did the coughing.

Ludwig felt the eyes of the other guards piercing in his back. He had to act calm, don't insult the doctor for refusing medicine, don't insult Hans for forcing the teen to work, although he was ill and too young to work.

He cleaned the pistol with more care than ever, trying to forget the angry and accusing look of the teen, before putting the safety catch back on and turning around.

That night, he couldn't get any sleep. It wasn't the first time he killed somebody, but it was the first time he had killed someone while looking into his eyes. Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw the Dutchy on the ground, gasping frantically. Everytime it was quiet around him, he could hear Alfred yelling to him, No! Don't do it! He's sixteen!

Finally he stood up from his bed and walked outside, into the freezing cold. Alfred was clearly not happy when he saw him, telling him to go away. But Ludwig wasn't giving up that easily, he ordered Alfred to get out of bed.

In the cold of the night, he told the American why he did it, why he had to kill the teen. When he got back in the quarters, Hans gave him a sermon about wasting bullets. ''You could have also just broke his neck'' Hans said irritated. '''That bullet could have saved a Germans life and you used it because you didn't want any blood on your hands'' Hans kept talking and talking, it seemed like hours.


	10. Chapter 10 A map out of hell

Alfred stared at the wall, still in bed, under a thin blanket. His night had been filled with nightmares about the Dutchy. He knew that the German guard who shot him, had done the right thing but still, he hated him. The nazi had killed a innocent teenager. The first group was gone for hours, finishing the barrack. They could be back any minute and by then, the blankets had to be folded up.

Alfred didn't care, why should he? They were all going to die here, because of starvation or being shot to death. Arthur returned to their bunk. ''Alfred, it's time to wake up'' he said, thinking the American was still asleep. Alfred grumbled something back, not moving an inch. ''Why should I?'' Arthur sighed deeply. ''Look, Alfred, I know you cared for Mark. But he's dead and we are still alive. Please, get up and fold your blanket.'' Alfred still wasn't moving. ''At least do it for the rest of the barrack! We can't miss another meal! We're starving already!'' he said, now getting angry. It took another moment but then Alfred sat up, pushing the blanket off and putting his feet on the cold ground outside. ''Thank you'' Arthur sighed while walking away, starting to talk to Gilbert.

Alfred folded the blanket absentminded, he only did this because otherwise the rest of the barrack would be punished. Just when he was done, the patrol entered the barrack, checking the beds. Arthur was standing next to him, sending him a small smile when he saw Alfreds blanket folded at the end of his bed.

''Was ist das?'' the leader of the patrol barked irritated, while pointing at their bunk. Not understanding what he was talking about, Arthur and Alfred turned their heads. Their beds were made up, but the bed at the bottom wasn't. Marks bed. Alfred was the first one to turn back to the leader of the patrol. ''Du hatte ihn gestern getötet.'' He said with a furious look on his eyes.

A smack was hearable in the barrack. ''Sie! Du Schweinhund!'' the leader shouted furiously. Alfred knew what he said, he didn't make a mistake. Germans had two words for you, one was du and the other one Sie. The second one was used when talking to a superior, when you had respect for somebody. And Alfred most defiantly didn't had /any/ respect for that man, who killed their friends like they were nothing more than vermin.

He felt his left side of his face turning red because of the blow. But the same glare stayed in his eyes. Arthur did a step forward, in front of Alfred. There had been no reason to hit him and the leader of the patrol had been irritating the POWs for weeks and weeks.

Hans glared furiously at them, how did they even dare thinking about disrespecting him?! He looked at the barrack, seeing the rest of them thinking the same way as these two rebels. Hans signed four soldiers of his patrol to take Artur and Alfred out, to teach them a lesson. Ludwig was one of those soldiers.

Alfred got dragged out of the barrack, the rest of the patrol continued checking. Whatever Ludwig would do now, it would be the wrong choice. Beat one of the POWs and get the whole barrack to hate you and maybe even kill you or refuse to beat them and get all the guards against you, maybe even a trial in military court for disobeying a order from a superior.

He heard the one on his right talking to Ludwig about him being caught for rebellion the second time. Arthur and Alfred were again dragged back to the corner of the camp.

Two of them started beating Arthur, wherever they could hit him. But the Brit kept quiet, gritting his teeth.

Alfred looked at the soldier from last time, he was clenching his fists and doing a few steps forward. His eyes moved to Ludwig, but he was also preparing himself to beat Alfred, pushing his sleeves up.

Never trust that nazi again, Alfred thought angrily about Ludwig. He was just like the rest of them, not trustable. There were no Germans who were different, not as cruel and savage. They didn't care about anyone. That had been proven the last few weeks.

It didn't took long before both POWs fell to the ground, weakened by lack of food for the past weeks. Arthur and Alfred were dragged back through the snow, their blood leaving marks in the white blanket of frozen water on the ground.

The barrack was already half empty. When the German dropped them at the entrance of the barrack, a few other prisoners jumped of their beds to help the two beaten men on their feet and back to their beds. Alfred was lying in the bottom bed and Arthur in Alfreds, Alfred was even too bruised up to climb into his own.

They were again woken, about half an hour before their group had to start working, Alfred felt something underneath his pillow. When he pulled it out, he saw it was a map. A map of the camp. It was an escape plan! Alfred quickly hid it, before any guard could see it. This was it! This was how they were going to escape. They wouldn't be here forever, waiting until they would die! Only an opportunity and they were out!


	11. Chapter 11 A cigarette for freedom

The whole day, the map burned under his jacket. An escape plan! And he had never seen the Dutchy writing it! Most likely, nobody in the whole barrack or in the whole camp knew about this map. Alfred was again digging, it was almost impossible in the frozen ground. Who could he trust of the barrack? He couldn't take everybody with him, just a few. Arthur of course, that for sure. Maybe also Gilbert, he had an even worse time here then most POWs. And he was useful when they were still in Germany, the accents of Alfred and Arthur were to obvious and they would be caught with ease. Just one patriotic German and they were back in camp.

They had to get out of here, there were more prisoners who got sick. And the rations were decreasing every week. But they also needed one who could get outside easily, someone who wasn't a prisoner. Someone who could tell them where the troops of the allies were, which direction they had to go to.

For that, he needed a guard. One of them trusted them already, Ludwig. Alfred was sure he couldn't be convinced into helping them escape but he could be useful without him knowing. Just chatting could provide them with the information they needed.

But for that, Alfred had to act like he didn't hate Ludwig. He had to forget the murders the German committed. Alfred had to ignore the deaths to save the living.

He saw from the corners of his eyes Ludwig walking around, checking on how the work was progressing. He was more lazy than the rest of the guards, not screaming and yelling, just walking around.

Alfred put the shovel in the ground and pressed down with his foot. The work was even more boring than usual. It seemed like years before finally the order to get out of the ditches was given.

The American climbed out and walked back to the barrack, searching for Arthur. He saw him, just before he went into the barrack. ''Arthur!'' he whispered, while signing him to come this way, in the corner of the barrack. ''Look what I found, it was Marks'' Alfred looked around, checking if no one was watching, before taking the map out and showing it to Arthur.

''This is the fence, those are the barracks. This side is at night'' he turned the map upside down and pointed at a triangle. '' That's all they can see from this watchtower. And this from the other tower'' he said, while pointing at another triangle. ''We have to get out of here, are you with me?'' Arthur stared at the map for a minute, too shocked to say anything. He nodded slowly. ''Who are going with us?'' he asked whispering.

''For now just you. But I want to ask Gilbert too, he can lead us through Germany and he can talk us out of difficult situations, he's a native German speaker. And because he is treated even worse than the rest of us.'' Alfred looked around, still seeing no one was watching or paying attention. Arthur nodded. ''Good idea'' Alfred continued. ''I don't want to take any other with us, we will only pull the attention towards us.'' Arthur pointed at the map. ''How are we going to get out of here? Those fences are 'decorated' with barbed wire'' Alfred nodded, he had thought about that.

''You know that nazi guard, Ludwig is his name. He thinks I am some kind of his 'friend'. I think I can lure him into giving us useful information and tools to get out of here. Of course, without him realizing. He can tell us where the allied troops are and I offer to help him put the shovels back in the shack. There are wire cutters in that shack, I will try to sneak one out.'' His voice was still soft. Arthur nodded. ''Okey, but be careful. That German is clearly not afraid to use his gun.'' He said, thinking of the Dutchy.

Alfred again hid the map. ''A few more weeks, maybe a month, then we can escape. I will first talk to Gilbert.'' Arthur climbed into his bed, clearly still struggling because of his bruises. Alfred signaled to Gilbert.

He told him the same as Arthur but Gilbert was a bit more careful. ''You has idea vhat happen to ve, they catch ve?'' he asked. ''Yes, I know what will happen if they find us, but they won't! And you will be able to go to America'' Gilbert clearly wanted that, he wanted to get out of Germany, the land he betrayed. ''Okey. I do it'' he said, before he also returned to bed, they weren't escaping yet so they had to save as much energy as possible.

The next few days, Alfred tried to talk as much as possible to Ludwig, trying to act like his friend. The guard had been a bit surprised but he was also lonely, mostly ignored by the other guards because he wasn't as harsh on the prisoners as they were. After a few days, Alfred tried to make the German get another blanket. It was just a test but the blanket could also be useful, they would escape in the middle of the winter and needed everything they could get.

'''Ludwig. My blanket is worn-out, it is barely keeping the cold away. Can't you get a other one?'' he asked, after chitchatting with him for at least half an hour. Ludwig hesitated. ''Nobody will notice! There are still lots of blankets in the stock barrack'' Alfred tried to encourage him. Finally the nazi nodded. ''I vill try vhat I can get'' his English had improved last time, it was more easy to understand him now.

It took another thirty minutes before Ludwig returned, with a blanket. Alfred smiled. ''Thanks!'' he said, smiling while taking the blanket. ''You is welcome'' Ludwig replied.

For the next few days, Alfred asked nothing of the German, not wanting to scare him of. But then the next request came. ''Do you got a lighter? Mine has run out of fuel and I can't lit my cigarettes'' Ludwig frowned. ''Vhat is lighter?'' he asked. ''Fire, for cigarette'' Alfred tried to explain him.

It took even longer for him to return, but he did have a lighter with him. Useful when they had to make a campfire for warmth. ''Thanks man! Want a cigarette? It's an American one, better than those German'' Alfred grinned, he knew even the Germans hated their own cigarettes. Ludwig accepted one gladly.


	12. Chapter 12 Escape through the darkness

It had been about three weeks now, Alfred had made good friends with Ludwig, or at least, the German thought they were friends. Alfred had gathered lots of useful stuff. A lighter, blankets, money, a wire cutter, a compass and even a map from the area around the camp. The last one he had stolen from the quarters of the guards, it had been a miracle nobody had seen him. Other things Ludwig had given him or Alfred had stolen them out of the shack where the shovels were stored.

Today, it was the last day, the last day of work. He returned to the barrack and tried to pack his stuff as invisible as possible, he didn't want to alarm anybody. Tonight they would escape. Alfred grabbed his blanket and hid the wire cutter in it, before again putting it at the end of his bed. The other stuff he hid under his jacket.

Gilbert had stolen some food, he almost got caught once. The guards had beaten him harshly, knocking out a tooth, for being somewhere he was forbidden to go. But they hadn't found the food, so they couldn't kill him for stealing. Because that was the punishment in this camp.

Arthur had made ropes from the clothes of killed people. He was put into another work group a few days after the incident with the blanket of the Dutchy, separated from Alfred. That work group buried the bodies of the killed people. It was horrible work and Arthur didn't want to say anything about it, he returned with shirts and jackets after every time. Alfred walked out, he had to get away from musty air inside.

Alfred was daydreaming about what they were going to do if they were out, back in freedom, when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He startled, jumping away. ''Whoo! It are just me'' Ludwig said, grinning slightly. ''I no mean to scare you''

Alfred put back his fake smile on, still pretending to be his friend. ''And? Did the Americans loose again? You sound so happy'' Ludwig nodded. ''They lose, but no Americans. They are Russia.'' Alfred looked around, hoping no POWs were around, he didn't want to raise any suspicion this last day. ''Are they coming to this camp? Ivan is lonely'' he grinned, trying to keep up the expectation he would be here until the end of the war. Ludwig nodded. ''3 guards go this afternoon and get them'' Alfred was cheering in his mind, there were less guards this night, so their escape had to go smoothly! But he kept his face straight, chatted about a few more things before walking into his barrack.

Gilbert and Arthur were delighted when they heard about the new guard numbers. ''We have to go this night'' Arthur said. Alfred nodded.

In the middle of the night, Alfred was woken by someone tugging on his shoulder. ''Ve go now'' with a thick German accent, but Alfred recognized Gilberts voice. He got up from bed as softly as he could, folded his blanket and threw it over his shoulder, running towards the fence with the other two escapees. They tried to stay as low as possible, out of sight of the flashlights of the towers.

Arthur threw a rope over the fence, a hook on the other side hanging into the fence. He tugged a few times before nodding to Alfred. The American climbed in the rope, up to the top of the fence and quickly cut the wire. It made a lot of noise, at least, it sounded like that in the ears of the POWs. After the wire was cut, he trew the cutter down, quickly climbing down at the other end of the fence. And he was out!

He was finally free again! After months and months of imprisonment, he was free! Gilbert was the next to follow, jumping down the last few feet. The last one was Arthur. And they had still not been seen by anyone in the camp!

They left the ropes and the cutter at the fence and started running towards the forest. Alfred knew, because of the chatting with Ludwig and the map, there had to be a small village at the other side of the forest. There, they could buy new clothes and loose the uniform. Gilbert already had civilian clothes, from his last escape, the escape of the army.

In the dark, without a flashlight, it was hard to walk through the forest, stumbling over logs. Arthur was softly cursing. But a flashlight could draw a lot of unwanted attention. They had to go unnoticed.

They moved through the forest until they were far away, they couldn't see the towers anymore, nor anything else. Actually, they were lost… And it was too dark to check their compass or map. ''Let's stay here until the sun comes up'' Arthur suggested, yawning of tiredness. The other two agreed and wrapped their blankets around them, sitting down. They would switch turns, two would sleep and one would be awake, to be sure they weren't followed.

Alfred had the first watch, he saw the other two falling asleep. There was almost no sound at all in the forest, only an owl disturbed the silence. Slowly, his eyelids were getting heavy, he struggled to stay awake. But he had to! He couldn't fall asleep just like that, it was too dangerous!

Alfred was woken by a hard punch on his arm. Arthur was glaring at him. ''Have you got any idea how dangerous it is out here?!'' he snarled furiously. Alfred looked around, a bit dazzled. Ooh no, he had really fallen asleep. Ashamed, he stared at the ground. ''I was really tired'' he apologized.

Gilbert was already folding his blanket. ''Ve go now, ve go to city'' Arthur nodded and also got up from the ground. Alfred was the last one, he quickly folded his blanket and with the compass and map, he pointed them the direction where they should go now. ''I don't know how far it is, I've got no idea how far we have ran yesterday. But one thing is for sure, this forest is huge! I doubt if we can cross it before the evening falls'' he said. Arthur responded with saying if that was the case, that they should hurry now.

For hours and hours, they walked, their legs starting to ache, they weren't used to walking such long distances. ''Let's rest for a few minutes'' Alfred suggested. Gilbert divided a piece of bread and gave them all a piece.

Their hearts stopped when they heard dogs barking and people shouting. ''They're coming…''Arthur whispered, his voice filled with pure panic.


	13. Chapter 13 The dogs are coming!

They jumped up from the ground, leaving their stuff behind and just started running. Alfred could hear the dogs barking and running through the forest, the Germans right behind the shepherds. Gilbert was running in front, he knew what was going to happen if they found them, he had already been caught once before. Arthur was right behind him, also scared. Gilbert led them to a river, maybe the dogs would lose track of them if they crossed the water.

The water was ice cold, it felt like little daggers cutting into his flesh. But they had to keep moving, they had to keep out of range of the dogs. The American was soaked till his waist when he got out of the river, paler than before, even turning blue of the cold. Arthur had slipped and fell into the water, luckily pulled out by Gilbert. The Brits teeth were chattering, it was just too cold to take a dive into the water.

Their clothes were wet, it was becoming more hard to run, their legs being tested to the fullest. Alfred was about to stop running and hide somewhere when he heard a gunshot, it gave him an energyboost. It meant the Germans were close, probably even within sight. When he looked over his shoulder, his suspicions were confirmed, he could see the German shepherd running towards them. The dogs were also soaked, which meant that they had even crossed the river to get to them.

Alfred ran as fast as he could, jumping over logs, his heart pounding in his chest. Then he heard a scream, it was Arthur. Gilbert shouted to him not to look back but he did, he saw the Brit being attacked by the dogs, being bitten in his back, arms and legs. Blood was flowing on the frozen ground. Arthur tried to fight the dogs off but they were with too many and he had lost a lot of strength in camp and the run had cost him lots of energy. ''Keep run!'' Gilbert said. ''Ve can no help Arthur'' The German kept running, the American followed him a few seconds later, the last thing he saw was the Germans getting to Arthur and dragging the dogs away. Three guards stayed with Arthur, the rest of them were still hunting the other escapees.

Alfred was expecting the teeth from the dogs to sink into his flesh any minute and the fear for that made him even run harder. He saw Gilbert stumble over something and crashing down on the ground. Alfred didn't stop, he just kept running. Just seconds later, he could also hear the screaming in pain from Gilbert. But the running paces behind him didn't stop.

Alfred was gasping for air, exhausted. But he didn't want to be caught, running for his life. He ran through the forest as quickly as he could. He had left everything behind, even if he escaped the Gemans by some kind of a miracle, he wouldn't get very far, without any supplies or without a interprenter. But he didn't care, he could better die in freedom than in a camp.

Suddenly, he felt a stinging pain in his left leg, it made him fall. The sound of a shot reached his ears. The fall wasn't really hard, because the snow was soft. But the hit of their failure reached him even harder, they had failed… they had been caught again, just a day after their escape.

Alfred looked at his painful leg, he saw the white snow coloring red. The next thing he saw were the Germans, running towards him. The American tried to get back on his feet and run further, but it hurt too much, he didn't reach much more than 2 meters when someone jumped on him and pinned him against the ground once again. It was Ludwig. And he seemed /really/ pissed off.

Alfred tried to push him away, not wanting to admit he failed. But the German wasn't his patient self anymore, he grabbed the wounded left leg of Alfred and twisted it, making the American scream in pain and stop his struggling. He glared furiously at the nazi, before the other Germans reached him.

''Und er ist drei.'' The leader of the patrol sighed relieved. He looked at the leg of Alfred. ''Warum hast du ihn erschossen?'' Hans sighed. ''Töte ihn'' Ludwig nodded and again grabbed his pistol, aiming for Alfreds heart. The American looked up into his eyes in terror. Was this really the end? Ludwig held his finger on the trigger, glaring down with anger. Alfred had never seen a look like that, without mercy and with pure hate. The American closed his eyes, waiting for the end.

Another, unknown German guard, walked towards them. ''Was macht er?'' he asked, Ludwig turned his head. ''Er tötet den Gefangenen. Der Gefangene ist verletzt.'' Hans replied, a bit of irritation in his face. ''Aber das kann doch nicht!'' the stranger replied. ''Er ist ein Kriegsgefangener. Sie können ihn nicht toten weil er verletzt ist!'' The unknown German was clearly higher in rank than the leader of the patrol, because Ludwig put away his pistol, although Alfred was still pinned to the ground. It took a while before Hans ordered the guards to take the POWs again prison and back to the camp. Their hands were tied on their backs with rope. Only Alfred wasn't tied up, it was already difficult enough for him to walk, leaning onto Gilbert. His leg continued bleeding and he was freezing cold because of the water. The shepherds smelled his blood and just went beserk, the guards had trouble controlling them. They had taste blood and wanted more.

It took a long time before they reached a road, luckily, they didn't have to walk back. There were cars, the POWs were pushed in the back, all separated. It was the first time Alfred had ever seen a car from the inside, but he wasn't caring much about it. The only thing he could think of right now, was the failed escape. They were back going back to camp.


	14. Chapter 14 Vodka isn't only a drink

Alfred sat in the back of the car, between two guards. His legs was aching badly, he saw the interior of the car being stained with his blood. He had expected to get shot if they were caught, but he didn't expect to be shot by Ludwig.

If he hadn't been stopped by the new German in command, Ludwig would have killed Alfred, without a second thought. A bit understandable, the American had used and betrayed him. But still, was it that wrong to want his freedom back?

It took a long time before they returned to the camp, Ludwig was sitting the passenger's seat in the front of the car. He hadn't looked back to Alfred once.

The American was feeling dizzy, he had lost a lot of blood. It ached terribly and he gritted his teeth in pain, but he was determent to show nothing!

When they arrived at the camp, the new German as clearly in charge around here now, the leader of the patrol wasn't barking any orders anymore. The doctor was called, every POW was injured, two because of dogbites and Alfred had a serious shotwound.

The doctor was clearly not happy he had been disturbed because of some prisoners. ''Sie sind nur Gefangenge'' he muttered irritated, but the new commandant was clearly not in the mood for someone disobeying his orders.

''No!…Ehm…nein, ich sind gesund!'' Alfred had said, slightly in panic. There were horror stories about that doctor, torturing people to death . His victims were mostly from the other barracks, but the stories were also told in the barrack of the POWs. Alfred tried to put some weight on his left leg. It felt like his leg was ripped open, tears appearing in the corners of his eyes.

The new commander looked at him and shook his head. ''Du bist verletzt'' He pushed him towards the doctor, who was still annoyed. ''Ein zu einer Zeit'' he growled irritated. Gilbert and Arthur were pushed to a cellblock, separated from the other barracks.

The inside of the room where the doctor mostly worked was grey, the wall, the ceiling and the floor. Two soldiers also entered the room, to protect the doctor if Alfred would decide to attack him. But also to keep the American under control while his wounds were treated, anesthesia was valuable in the camp.

Alfred was lying on his back on the table, one of the guards pushed his shoulders down, the other one grabbed his legs. Alfred glared at the doctor, a hint of fear in his eyes. He didn't trust the man, who was a German and according to the stories a sadist too.

The doctor was getting some stuff out of a drawer, when he turned around, Alfred saw a pair of scissors, a scapel and some more frightening tools. His muscles tightened in fear.

The German, who was holding his shoulders down, grinned. ''Er wird nicht beiβen'' he said to Alfred. The American just glared back at him, while he saw the doctor walking towards his legs. He got hit in the lower part of his left leg, a few inches below his knee.

He heard the sound of the scisscors and the fabric around the wound moving. Alfred tried to put his head up, he couldn't see anything what was happening to his leg. And that didn't seem like a really good idea with a sadistic doctor around. But the guard kept his shoulder against the table, making it impossible for Alfred to see what was going on.

Alfred stared at the ceiling, scared of what was about to happen. He couldn't see it and the doctor nor the guards said anything.

The American started screaming when he suddenly felt an stinging pain in his leg, struggling to sit up and pulling his leg away. The guards had trouble to control him and keeping him down. Alfred could feel a knife cutting into his leg. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to get a hold of the pain. His teeth gritted, he thought they could break any moment.

As suddenly as the knife had started cutting, the scalpel was removed. Alfred heard metal falling into the trashcan and he sighed relieved. The pain would be over soon now, only bandaging and then he could leave again. The stories weren't real, it hurt but no other doctor could have done it with less pain.

He relaxed a bit, not as tensed up as before. Alfred heard the doctor mumbling something about die Flasche mit transparenten Flüssigkeit. For a moment, he felt the guards at his legs letting go with one hand, handing something to the doctor before again grabbing his legs, even tighter than before.

Alfred was again staring at the ceiling, the guard at his shoulder pressed down harder. Until that moment, he wasn't suspecting anything. In a few minutes, he would be in a cell, there he could think of a new plan to escape. He had to wait until his leg was healed and then he would try again and again, until he was killed or free.

Suddenly, a burning and stinging pain spread through his body from out his leg. He screamed in utter pain and with all his strength he sat up, his legs pulled up, away from the sadistic doctor. He clenched his fist in a reflex and hitting the doctor in the face. He saw a bottle with transparent stuff in it falling on the floor, the smell of vodka filled the air. By then, the German guards had overcome the initial shock of the power of the American and they pushed him back down, hitting him harshly against one of the sides of his head.

Alfreds sighed went blurry and black spots appeared before he lost consciousness. He woke up in a dark cell, barely any light coming through the metal bars. When he checked his leg, it hurt less. There was a white bandage around it, already soaked with his blood.

He still felt dizzy, his headache preventing him from thinking clearly. Alfred saw he was alone, Gilbert and Arthur weren't anywhere to be seen. Alfred hoped they had gotten a better treatment than he had got, with anesthetics. Because pouring vodka into someone's wounds wasn't a very humane way to clean the injuries.


	15. Chapter 15 An unbroken spirit

Alfred had no idea how much time past before he again woke up when he heard a key turning in the lock. He sat up, his leg again aching as badly as before. The bright light that fell into the cell blinded him. After half a minute he saw the people who were standing in the doorframe. One of them was the new commander, the other one Ludwig.

They stepped inside and the commander started talking in German. Ludwig translated it. ''Permission to speak English given. Why you escape?'' he translated, glaring at Alfred. The American didn't respond, wasn't it obvious? ''Why?!'' Ludwig asked again, this time a bit more annoyed. ''We will all die here before the end of the war. You German bast… you Germans will murder us all for the most silly reasons. Because you're barely giving us enough food or proper clothing. And we get no medicine at all if we fall ill, we are just forced to work until we drop dead. Give me /one/ reason not to escape'' It was an answer to the new commander but Alfred was talking to Ludwig, giving him an accusing look. He had no right to shoot him, Ludwig knew in what horrible circumstances Alfred had been living for the past months. And still he had been determined to bring him back.

Ludwig translated it into German but never stopped glaring at the American. The commander again said something, Alfred could understand a few words. ''Because you always get caught again'' Ludwig translated. Alfred sniffed in anger and disdain.

The next question made Ludwig a bit paler, it took longer before he translated the sentence. ''How you get lighter and other stuff when you escaped?'' he asked, the glare had vanished out of his eyes, he seemed more helpless now. Only saying the name of the German guard in front of him could cost Ludwig his job and maybe his life, at least he would be put in a camp as well for betraying the fatherland.

Alfred had the power to sent Ludwig to a camp just as worse as this one, a revenge for what he had done. But that would be low, only Germans could do something that low. ''Stole them'' he replied, this time looking at the commander. Ludwig seemed a bit relieved, the glare didn't come back.

The commander asked a few more questions before turning around and heading for the door. ''Warte!'' Alfred said. The commander stopped but didn't turn around. ''Meine Freuden, wo ist sie?'' he asked.

But the man didn't answer, walked out of the door with Ludwig and again turned the key in the lock.

It became quiet again but Alfred couldn't stop worrying about his friends, what happened to them? Were they still alive? And if yes, where were they?

Alfred kept thinking about them, he just had to know if they were alright. He knew they had some serious bite wounds from the dogs. If the wounds were kept clean, they would survive. But if not, they would most likely die of blood poisoning. And if the wounds were cleansed, how? With alcohol? They had even more injuries, cleaning could be considered torture.

Alfred kept quiet, hoping he would hear some sign of life. He straightened up when he heard footsteps, hoping he would hear something about Gilbert and Arthur. But it wasn't the commander, it were the two guards from yesterday and Ludwig. When the smell of vodka reached Alfred, he pulled his leg away, his back against the wall, glaring furiously at them.

One of the guards grinned and turned to Ludwig. ''Gestern, er hatte den Arzt mit so viel Kraft geschlagen, der Arzt bewusstlos war. Das wird ihn lernen uns so wenig Medikamente zu geben'' Ludwig was also slightly grinning, it was obvious everybody hated the doctor. ''You beat the doctor knock-out yesterday?'' he asked Alfred. The Amercian kept his mouth shut, he didn't know he had beaten the doctor unconscious, but it could be possible. It hurt like hell when he poured that vodka on his injured leg, without even telling Alfred to brace himself. That blow would teach him to stop torturing people in the camp.

Because the doctor refused to go anywhere near the American, the guards had been assigned to take care of the shot wound of Alfred. The doctor had told them to pour vodka into the wounds to keep infection away and gave them a bottle.

The guards walked towards Alfred, one grabbing him at his shoulders, the second one his legs and Ludwig opened the bottle. ''You bastards! Don't even dare to come close to that wound with that bottle!'' Alfred spat furiously, struggling even worse than before. He knew he could get into serious trouble for speaking English without permission and cursing but he didn't care, he just wanted the burning pain to stay away. He didn't care about the possibility of infection, why should he live if he couldn't get out of this prison? Ludwig put his knee on Alfreds left ankle, preventing the leg from moving too much before he undid the bandages.

The guards had trouble with keeping him still, the one at his shoulder twisted his arms painfully. ''You damn bastards! Let me go right now!'' Alfred snarled, tears appearing in the corners of his eyes because of the twisted arms and of desperation.

He saw the liquid falling on the open wound. For a moment, he felt nothing. Then the burning pain from yesterday returned. Ludwig had clearly heard the story and the other guards learned from their mistake yesterday because their grip tightened harshly, preventing Alfred from moving more than a few centimeters.

When the pain slowly faded away, they released him again. ''Where are my friends?'' he asked again, this time to Ludwig. It took a while before he replied. ''Locked up, both much wounds. But no curse like you do'' he grinned again. His face then turned seriously again. ''They calm, they go back to barrack soon. When you stop fight, you go back too'' Alfred didn't reply but the look in his eyes made it clear enough, he wasn't going to give up. He wasn't going to be broken that easily.


	16. Chapter 16 Cracks in a soul

Alfred had no idea how long he was in that cell. He was always alone, except if the guards came to make sure the wounds wouldn't get infected. But he had no idea how often they came, once a day? Twice a day? Or less? They wouldn't tell him either every time he asked. Alfred was sure this was one of their tactics to break him.

The light that fell into his cell came from a lamp the hallway, it was always on. Food was brought irregular, sometimes he had just finished his piece of bread before the next one was given. Other times he was getting rather hungry before one of the guards gave him some bread.

He was thinking he was going insane. Alfred had no contact with anyone, the only time he saw people when he received bread or when vodka was poured into his shot wound. And they barely spoke a word to him, only the most necessary things.

He was only again, in the silence, daydreaming about his family.

His father had told him not to go, he had told him about the war that he had fought in. But Alfred refused to listen, even not when his mother begged him crying to stay home. His little brothers were more supportive, they asked him if he would take some presents back home from Europe, like it was some kind of a holiday trip.

His family didn't even know where he was right now. They had to think he was dead, mostly, he sent him postcards every month. But he hadn't been able to do that for the last few months. His last card had been short, he had told them that he was going to the front to fight over there.

Alfred heard the footsteps in the hallway. There was more than just one person walking towards his cell. He sighed in desperation. That always meant they got the alcohol with them.

The American had realized it was necessary to keep the wound clean. But he shouldn't have been shot in the first place! The wound was healing badly, it just wouldn't close. He heard the footsteps coming closer.

When the door opened, he saw 4 people standing in the doorframe, Alfred frowned. One of them was the commander. Was he still determined on getting answers how he escaped? Alfred glared at him, he wasn't going to tell him anything. That would explain why Ludwig was here too, but not the other two guards. They did a few paces into the cell and grabbed him.

But there was also a fifth person, the doctor. The moment Alfred saw him, he started cursing in anger. That earned him a slap in the face from one of the guards, he couldn't see who in the dark. The doctor just looked down on him in disdain. ''Ich behandeln ihn nicht'' he said. The commander turned around to the doctor and started discussing. Finally the doctor gave in and agreed treating the American.

Alfred was pushed down to the concrete floor, again he couldn't see anything what was going on. He felt liquor spilling over his leg, burning as much as usual. But he was preparing for something worse, otherwise the doctor wouldn't have come here with 4 people to hold him down. His legs were hold still, Alfred felt a hand just below his wound.

The pain of something piercing through his skin. Alfred screamed at the top of his lungs, trying to escape their grip. He was sick of this! Being tortured, while the Germans called it medical treatment. He felt a sharp tug close to his wound, there was something stuck in his skin.

The doctor wasn't working quick, irritated because the new commander made him treat the POWs, even the one who had hit him last time. He was taking his time and before he made one single stitch, he pierced the skin at least one or two times unnecessarily, pulling the thread through before removing it again, just to make Alfred suffer more.

Alfred bit his tongue, he could taste the blood. The commander was getting impatient and told the doctor to hurry. Finally, Alfred felt the hand below the wound being removed. He felt some more vodka being poured over it but it hurt less than usual. The guards and the doctor left the cell and the door was locked again.

Alfred sat up and looked at his leg, the bandages were gone and he felt rough thread of stitches keeping the wound sides together.

After the stitches, Alfred was even more isolated from the outside world. He didn't know for sure because he had no time or what so ever. But it seemed like the guards were opening the cell door even less.

He was getting skinnier, something like Arthur had been before the escape. Alfred was always hungry now, but that could also come because of boredom. He tried to kill as much time as possible by sleeping. But sometimes he could that frustrated, pacing up and down in his cell, his wound again starting to bleed. ''Lass mir raus!'' he shouted furiously through the metal bars in his door before hitting the door in his rage.

It felt like the walls were coming closer. He wanted to get out, he wanted to check on his friends, he wanted to know the time! Alfred felt he was losing his sanity, he couldn't fight this loneliness for much longer.

He heard again footsteps, hopefully he stood up and walked towards the door. As usual, the door opened and Alfred got pushed back, to prevent him escaping, a piece of bread and a glass of water shoved into his hands before the door was again locked. ''Lass mir raus!'' he shouted again at the guard, who ignored him and walked away again.

After a few sips of water, the anger came back. The glass crashed into the wall and fell into pieces on the ground. Alfred sank down and buried his face in his arms. He didn't cry, no, he was past the point of crying. He couldn't handle this much longer.

The next time the guards came was with the vodka. Other than usual, Alfred didn't get up, getting ready to fight them. He was still sitting on the floor, his head resting against the wall and staring glassy at the other wall. To what use was it to fight? He wasn't going to get out of here.

For once, the guards didn't have to be cautious every moment. For once, Alfred was the one ignoring them, only pulling his leg away an inch when he felt it burning. Ludwig looked at him with pity, Alfred stared back numb. A bit surprised, the guards again left, last time Alfred had still been fighting and cursing at them. Just before the door was locked, Ludwig turned around. ''It is January five. About 2 hour, daytime ''he said, before the door was closed and locked. Alfred looked up in surprise, he finally had some clue about the time. January the fifth? He had been her for weeks, although he couldn't really remember the date of their escape. And it was two o'clock, Alfred had thought it had to be midnight by now but surprisingly it was afternoon.

Why would they tell him now? Was it because Ludwig felt sorry for him? Or had it some other reason. It was the first time he hadn't been trying to kill the guards for torturing him. Maybe that was the reason why he was given some information.

A bit more alive, Alfred began thinking. He was finally no longer ignored, he felt like he wasn't going insane anymore. But how could he get the guards to keep talking, he needed to hear human voices. Maybe he should try to remain calm next time.

It felt like time was slowing down, Alfred waited impatient until they would return. He hated the pain of cleaning the wound but he was also lonely, desperately lonely.

He woke up when he heard footsteps becoming louder. Instead of three guards, only Ludwig and another guard entered the cell. The guard stood in a corner of the cell, ready to step in if Alfred decided to keep fighting. Ludwig poured vodka over the injury.

The American kept calm and gritted his teeth in pain, not able to curse out loudly because he didn't want to destroy the progress he had made. After the treatment, Ludwig again started talking. ''You keep calm, docter removes stitches'' he said, before again getting up from the ground and leaving. ''Warte!'' Alfred said, his voice broken. ''Lass mir raus'' it didn't sound like the frustrated shouts from a time ago, it sounded more helpless an begging. But Ludwig shook his head and again locked the door when the other guard had also left the cell.


	17. Chapter 17 New commander, new rules

**((A 1000 views already! That means two chapters today! If I get 10 reviews in total, there will be 2 chapters the days after reaching the 10))**

Alfred was dreaming, he was dreaming about home. In his dream their escape had succeeded, they weren't chased after by the Germans and dogs but reached the village. From there, they had fled to the Netherlands, from there to England. Arthur refused to stay there, it was too unsafe and he didn't want to have anything to do with the war anymore. So they all fled to America, finally safe.

He saw his family, standing at the dock. Gilbert was muttering something about freedom of America. But Alfred didn't pay much attention, he wanted to get of this ship as soon as possible.

Just before he could reach his family, he was woken by the door opening. A bit dazzled, he looked around. No, the escape hadn't succeeded, they had been captured again. The feeling of freedom faded away and so did his hope. He sighed desperate and looked up. The Germans were back, the three guards and the commander. He heard them talking but it went a bit too fast for him to understand. ''Er is ruhig jetzt, keine Rebellion mehr. Der Plan ist erfolchreich'' one of the guards talked to the commander. ''Das weiβ ich noch nicht genau. Er scheint vielleicht ruhig aber er kann noch immer rebellieren.''

The commander turned to Alfred and Ludwig translated. ''You're going cooperate?'' he asked. Alfred hesitated for a moment, he wasn't going to give up just like that. But if he refused, he would probably be left alone for days again. His nails pinned into his wrists, he nodded slightly. Alfred stared at the ground, he saw a shade appearing in the cell, there was somebody who was standing in the doorframe. His muscles tightened when he saw who it was. Ludwig noticed the change in Alfreds behavior and warned him. ''You are going cooperate'' he said, his voice stern.

Cooperate? While being tortured? Were those Germans completely out of their minds?! The doctor entered the cell, looking suspiciously at each other. For once, the Germans didn't push him to the ground. They were standing a few feet away, ready to step in if something would go wrong.

The doctor was more careful than usual, knowing Alfred could wasn't hold back anymore. He removed the stitches, it barely hurt. Alfred was finally able to see anything, every other time it had been just waiting for another sting of pain.

He gritted his teeth, glaring at the doctor when he got a bottle out. ''Last time, calm down'' Ludwig said, doing a step forward. The alcohol burned but it was less than the first time, when he hadn't expected it and the wound was still deep and big.

Until so far Alfed hadn't tried to kill the doctor. The commander was still standing still. The doctor got up and left the room, but not for sending Alfred a angry glare.

Ludwig was translating the new rules in camp, the commander was now the boss in the camp, Hans was gone. Any foreign languages were strictly forbidden to be spoken with other prisoners, on penalty of a beating. Stealing would be punished by smaller rations of food. Escaping, fighting and rebelling bared the punishment of being locked up in a cell for an undetermined amount of time.

Alfred was beginning to realize the new commander wanted to have the whole camp under strict control. The commander was playing with your mind, trying to drive you insane to remain in control. He nodded absent minded and they left. But the door didn't close this time. ''Get up'' Ludwig said, waiting at the door. ''You going back to barrack'' Alfred stood up and walked to the door, a bit hasty before they could change their mind.

They walked through the hallway, towards the door. Alfred was getting impatient, he was almost outside again. His leg was aching because of the walking but he didn't really mind. Finally, he reached the doors. He was out again! Still, locked in a camp but he was out of the cell that had been his home for weeks and weeks.

It was dark outside, a thick layer of snow on the ground. But Alfred could finally breath fresh air instead of the musty inside of the cell. The guards didn't go outside, it was too cold. Only Ludwig went with him to the barrack. ''You're okey?'' he asked Alfred when they were out of sight of the other Germans. ''As okey as someone can be after weeks of torturing and being locked up'' Alfred replied, a bit more snarling than he wanted to. He hoped Ludwig wouldn't get mad.

He didn't, the German just sighed deeply. ''Own fault, you run away. And no torture, vodka makes wound heal good'' They did a few more steps through the high snow until Alfred again started talking. ''Why did you shoot me?'' he asked. It took Ludwig even longer before he replied. ''You escaped. If I let you go, I betray Deutschland'' Alfred thought it was just a lame excuse. ''We're being killed over here, by work, by doctors or by a gunshot. And you expect us to stay calm and don't escape?'' Alfred asked irritated. Ludwig didn't answer, he pushed Alfred into the barrack before walking away.

It was a huge surprise so many people were still awake, they turned their heads towards the intrance where Alfred was standing. ''You alive!'' he heard the familiar voice of Gilbert. ''We think you dead!'' Arthur jumped of bed and paced towards Alfred, giving him a hug. ''We thought they had killed you!'' Alfred looked at his friends, he saw Gilbert having a bite wound in his face, across his eye. Arthur was more fortunate and only his arms had visible scars on them.

''Vodka?'' the Russian asked while sniffing. ''Where vodka? '' Alfred shook his head. ''I'm sorry, there isn't any vodka left.''


	18. Chapter 18 Snow covers crimes

Alfred had been the only one who had been kept in a cell for weeks, probably because the Germans thought he was the one who started it. Gilbert and Arthur had also hadn't been treated by the doctor, probably because he was still unconscious at that time. It took a few days before the doctor came to stitch them up.

Arthur told him about the new rules and how different prisoners already had been thrown into cells. Mostly because of insulting a German. The barrack was emptier than before Alfred had left it weeks ago, there had been a lot of deaths because of diseases.

Alfred told them about the weeks in isolation, although there wasn't much to tell. But he wanted to hear voices of other people, he had been locked up so long and he had barely had any communication at all.

They talked until Arthur told him he wanted to go to bed, work wasn't split anymore in two different groups now more guards had arrived. Alfred nodded and also climbed into bed. Normally, the snoring of the other POWs had irritated him, but now it was a reassuring sound, he wasn't alone anymore.

The next morning, Alfred was woken by loud shouting in German. Morning checking, he thought, while climbing out of bed. He folded the blankets like he had done for weeks when he was still in the barrack. But Arthur grabbed his wrist. ''Not the military way! That new commander gets really pissed off if you do that.'' Arthur hadn't had any time to explain further because the German patrol was already heading their way.

Arthur folded the blanket twice and parted it in three pieces, like usual. But then he put the left part over the middle part and the right part he put under the middle. It had the same height and shape as the military folding but it was slightly different.

''That man says you're trying to act like a soldier if you fold it the military way. He keeps saying we aren't soldiers anymore'' Arthur whispered before shutting up because the commander was coming too close.

The patrol checked if everyone was still there before they ordered the POWs to get to work. It wasn't digging anymore, but getting the camp rid of all the snow that had fallen in the past few days. Alfred noticed the group was getting exhausted, not just from the work of today but of the past weeks. They were getting really skinny, nothing like the soldiers that arrived here.

The patrol was getting irritated, shouting orders and handing out some hits and beatings. But the work still didn't go as quickly as they wanted it. Alfred tried to shovel the snow away, but it was hard labor after a few minutes. The Russians were getting fed up with it and they stopped, throwing the shovels on the ground and putting their arms over each other.

The new commander smiled lightly, shivers went up the spine of Alfred. Gilbert was one of the rebelling ones. ''Ich hatte die Regeln doch sehr deutlich erklärt'' he said, doing a few steps forward, guards at his side. The guards grabbed the rebelling POWs, starting to drag them to the cells. ''Warte'' the man said, pointing at Gilbert. The guard who was holding Gilbert stopped. ''War er der Verräter?'' he asked. The guard nodded.

''Meine Herren Kriegsgefangener. Es ist deutlich dass Sie die Regeln noch nicht verstehen'' the commander said to the POWs who hadn't been rebelling. The Russian were already gone out of sight. Alfred was thinking this could end up bad. The commander pulled out his gun.

Alfreds heart stopped, not again! Not again someone being shot by a German, he let his shovel fall to the ground and moved forward, hoping he would be in time to stop him. Gilbert was getting pale, for once he wasn't shouting insult when he felt the cold metal of the gun being pushed against his head.

''Sind die Regeln deutlich?!'' the commander shouted, looking at the rest of the group. ''Sind die Regeln deutlich?!'' he shouted again. The group nodded and mumbled a yes. The commander put his pistol back in the holster and pushed Gilbert to the guard, who took him towards the cells.

Alfred sighed relieved, his friend wasn't going to die, yet. This new commander was serious. He commanded the rest to continue working, which the group surprisingly did.

After hours of working, the camp was finally clear of snow. Alfred couldn't feel his hands, ears or feet anymore, they were too cold. And this work was pretty useless, tomorrow the snow would be back. It was still winter and it didn't seem like spring was coming soon.


	19. Chapter 19 For Germany!

Ludwig was sitting on a chair, in front of the fireplace. It was freezing cold outside and after a long shift he could finally go back inside. He felt a bit sorry for the prisoners, who were staying in barracks, barely protected from the cold. But it was their own fault, they shouldn't have fought against the great German empire.

And that Amercian, he was probably the worst of them all. Many weeks ago, he, a Brit and a German traitor had escaped the camp in the middle of the night. They hadn't found out about the escape until one of the guards had seen a rope, made of fabric, hanging on the fence. When they checked the barrack, three beds were empty.

Just minutes later they had left the camp to search them and get them back. The dogs were also taken with them, barking like they could already see the escapees. Ludwig had been furious, he had been lured into giving them things they could need, like a lighter and blankets.

How could he have ever been that stupid?! Ludwig had been even more driven then the rest of the guards to catch them, especially Alfred.

After hours of looking, the dogs had finally caught their scent and started running. When they found them, it was obvious they hadn't expected to be caught that quickly. The first one to go down was the Brit, the dogs had been quicker than him and pulled him down on the ground.

The other two escapees continued running. A few guards remained with the Brit while the other ones went after the traitor and the American. The second one was the traitor, one of the dogs had bitten him in the face, leaving a open wound, blood gulping out of it.

But Ludwig was determined to catch the American, who had tricked him. The dogs were busy with the other two prisoners and only humans were following Alfred. It seemed like he was about to get away, the German guards were tired of running.

No! He wouldn't let that happen. Ludwig grabbed his pistol from the holster and aimed for the American, first his back. But that would cause such an injury, he would die immediately. Ludwig then aimed for his leg, he stopped running and pulled the trigger.

The American fell down on the ground, his leg started to bleed immediately. Ludwig put his pistol back in the holster but when he again looked at Alfred, the American had stood up and tried to get away, although the injury was preventing him from running. _I will not let that happen_, Ludwig thought and he ran towards him, pushing him back down roughly. ''And he's number three'' he heard Hans saying a few meters behind him.

Ludwig glared down at Alfred furiously, how dared he lure him into tricks like that. He used him to escape! Ludwig could only hope the other Germans wouldn't find out about it, he would be sent to a camp just like the traitor. Hans came closer and looked down on the leg of the American. ''Why did you shoot him?'' he sighed, slightly irritated. ''Kill him'' was his final order. Ludwig nodded and again grabbed his pistol. He loaded it with another bullet and put it against the Americans chest, close to his heart.

He wasn't hesitant to follow the order, actually, he wanted to kill the American. He had betrayed him and caused him much trouble. Alfred, even if he was only an individual, had tried to destroy the German empire! He was a danger to whole Germany and he had to be killed to reinsure he wouldn't escape again and consume more of their time.

He saw the fear in the Americans eyes. Almost, he felt pity for him. But still! He was the one who escaped, it was his own fault!

''What is he doing?'' a voice said, it was the new leader of the camp. Hans was about to be send to the east frontier, to fight over there. And the new leader would take control of the camp. When he looked at the direction of the voice, he saw the man coming closer. ''He's going to kill the prisoner. The prisoner is wounded.'' Ludwig could hear the irritation in Hans voice, he knew Hans wasn't happy about being sent to the east.

''But you can't do that! He's a POW. You can't kill him because he's wounded!'' he heard the new leader saying before motioning to Ludwig to put his pistol away.

Ludwig wasn't happy about this decision but he did put the pistol back, holding the American to the ground. After a few more minutes, the leader commanded everyone to go back to the cars. Back to camp.

There, the doctor was called to treat the prisoners. The first one was Alfred, because he was bleeding the most and really needed treatment. But the doctor didn't return, the leader was called by one of the guards.

After five minutes, the guards who were still holding the other two POWs, were told to take care of their injuries. The doctor wasn't able to do so. The traitor understood the talking and kept asking what had happen to the American. The Brit on the other hand, had been very quiet, not speaking a word, just staring at the wall.

The guards were told to be very careful when cleaning the wounds, making sure none of the Germans could get hurt. Ludwig began to realize, bit by bit, what had happened to the doctor. He grinned, served him well.

In the evening, Alfred was being interrogated. He told why he had run away. But Ludwig thought it were just lame excuses, still angry with the American.

His heart skipped a beat when the new commander asked the next question. Alfred could bring him in huge problems by just pointing at him. Ludwig had to translate the question, otherwise it would be suspicious. With a bit of fear, he looked at Alfred and translate the question, praying the American wouldn't tell the truth.

It felt like a heavy burden fell of him when he heard the answer, Alfred said he had stolen the stuff. After the interrogation, the other guards and Ludwig were called together.

''Nobody will tell the American anything about the time or the other escapees. We will isolate him, it's clearly he's the one who started this. The other POWs will be put back in the barrack by tomorrow but the American stays. The shot wound is too serious to be ignored, it has to be kept clean to prevent infection. He must be broken, I will not tolerate this kind of behavior in this camp!'' the commander said. ''Over there is a schedule, when he gets bread and water and when the wound has to be cleaned. And yes, it is irregular, to make sure he loses all sense of time. It's forbidden to give him anything else and don't forget, never tell him the time!'' The guards nodded, still not totally understanding what the leader was trying to achieve by doing this.

The next morning, the first cleaning was on schedule. They had already divided the tasks, one would grab Alfreds legs, the other one his shoulder and Ludwig would pour the vodka on the wound.

Alfred had been cursing at them like his leg was being cut off. Ludwig moved his knee on the Americans ankle to keep his leg still, quickly undoing the bandages and pouring vodka over it.

The wound didn't seem really good to him, Ludwig hoped it wouldn't get infected. In that case, they had to get the doctor again. And he had just been told by one of the guards that Alfred and the doctor didn't get along very well.

When they left the cell, Alfred asked him about the other escapees. Ludwig didn't really know what to answer, he didn't want to say anything too much. Every little thing he did could help or work against Germany, even a very small thing.

Finally he answered, he told Alfred that they had gone back to the barrack, the truth. And that he could go back too if he calmed down, but it was clear in the Americans eyes that calming down was the last thing he would do.

Weeks went by, Alfred continued fighting every time they wanted to clean the wound. And the injury didn't seem healing very properly, Ludwig regretted he had shot him.

The day the doctor came to stitch the wound was the worst day of them all. The moment they opened the door, Alfred began cursing. One of the guards did a step towards him and hit him across the face. There were four persons except for the doctor, one for each limb.

Ludwig held down Alfreds left shoulder, having pity in his eyes. The American had no idea what was about to happen and he would certainly not be pleased with it. Ludwig could see the fire in his eyes. Then suddenly, the screaming started, Alfred was trying to get up from the floor, Ludwig had trouble with keeping him down. From the corner of his eye, he could see the doctor had begun the stitching.

Alfred stopped screaming but Ludwig could see he was in a lot of pain, the doctor was making mistakes on purpose, just because he hated the American.

The days after the stitching, Alfred became restless, pacing up and down in his cell, making the wound bleeding again. He began shouting he wanted to get out, but as ordered, no German went to his cell.

About four days after that, Alfred calmed down. He didn't even glare of curse anymore when they came to clean his wounds. Ludwig was told he could tell the time and date if the American kept calm.

After the cleaning, when they were about to leave the cell, Ludwig stopped. ''It is January five. About 2 hour, daytime ''

The next time, Alfred almost begged to be let out of the cell, but Ludwig had to refuse, the American had to stay locked up, otherwise his behavior would soon return. And they couldn't let them escape a second time.

When the commander was finally convinced Alfred was calm enough, he called the doctor to remove the stitches. While they walked through the hallway, Ludwig was thinking. Would this go well? Or would Alfred start fighting again when he saw the doctor?

The American glared furiously at the doctor when the man entered the cell. But he kept calm, no one was holding him pinned to the ground. And the doctor was a bit careful this time, not his usual sadistic self.

The commander smiled lightly, his tactic had worked, even Ludwig had to admit that. Hans would have killed Alfred weeks earlier, not as patient as the new leader.

Ludwig was told to get Alfred back to the barrack, as they walked through the cold snow, Ludwig asked Alfred how he was doing, finally able to do so without breaking any rules.

''As okey as someone can be after weeks of torturing and being locked up'' Ludwig sighed, he knew it had to be horrible to be locked up in a cell for weeks and weeks, almost having no contact with anyone at all.

''Own fault, you run away. And no torture, vodka makes wound heal good'' Ludwig replied, it was Alfreds own fault, he shouldn't have escaped.

''Why did you shoot me?'' The question came out of nowhere, it took a few moments before Ludwig could answer. ''You escaped. If I let you go, I betray Deutschland'' It was the truth, any small mistake could cause a bigger one. Ludwig had to remember his task, his task was to guard the prisoners. All for one big Germany!

''We're being killed over here, by work, by doctors or by a gunshot. And you expect us to stay calm and don't escape?' Ludwig stared at the ground, he didn't know what to think. It was all for the greater good, but how many more had to die for a big Germany? On both sides.


	20. Chapter 20 A family left behind

((As requested, Alfreds family. I'm really sorry guys, but this week I'm very busy, I'm gone every day from 7 AM 'till 7 PM until Saturday. There won't be as many chapters as usual, it will take a bit longer. About the two chapters because of the 10 reviews, I will post two chapters Sunday))

Mary was started to lose hope her son Alfred would ever return home. They hadn't heard anything from him for months, not even a short letter they had received from him. Months ago, the news of the attack had been briefed to them. There weren't found any survivors in the trenches after the gas attack but Alfreds body hadn't be found either. That's why Mary had still had hope.

Her husband had told her to give up hope, Alfred wasn't coming back. But how could she accept that he was dead? A tears fell down on the table, she quickly wiped her cheek clean. There had be some kind of a miracle that Alfred had survived.

But was the idea of him living that much better? If he had survived, he surely had been captured by the Germans, otherwise he would have sent them a letter much sooner. It would mean he was imprisoned in a camp. And the stories from those camps were horrible, she didn't even want to think about it.

John had seen the tear of his mother, he stopped playing in the living room with his brother and walked to the kitchen. ''Mom?'' he asked. But John already knew why she was crying, although he was just 10 years old. It was his older brother Alfred, who had gone missing in the war. They didn't want to tell him and his siblings much about it, but John had heard everything when he had walked down the stairs at night.

Alfred had been surprised by a gas attack in the trenches, all the other soldiers had died. Only Alfred hadn't been found, they had no idea where he was. Alive or dead. It had haunted John in his dreams, sometimes he even had nightmares about it.

In those nightmares, he was Alfred and was running for his life in the trenches. But the gas was closing in on him. When he was almost at the end of the trench, armed Germans were there, pointing their rifles at him. Every time he woke up at that moment, sweating and confused.

But he had to be strong, for his parents and his siblings. The younger ones didn't even know that Alfred had gone missing, their parents didn't want to tell them. They still thought that Alfred was fighting against those bastards.

His mother looked up, her eyes red. ''Ooh… John… nothing, it's nothing'' she tried to smile but John wasn't fooled that easily. But before he could say anything, his mother stood up from her chair and handed him a few scarves. ''Go and bring those scarves to the military depot'' she said while pushing him towards the door.

John grabbed his coat and put it on before walking out of the door, pacing towards the military depot through the cold snow. His mother had been making scarves, gloves and even a few coats to make sure the soldiers in the trenches in Europe wouldn't freeze to death. Just like the other women in the village. She hadn't stopped when she had heard Alfred had gone missing. His mother had just continued making those things, even making more than before.

Almost all the wool from last spring was gone, made into scarves and gloves. And John always brought them to the depot. Mary only did this to keep herself busy, if she was doing something, she wouldn't think about her son in Europe. She looked at the clock, it felt like the time was going slower than ever.

Her husband had left to help at one of the big cities about three weeks ago, an old leg fracture had prevented him from going to war, he couldn't run for a long time. But he was determined to have his share in winning this war.

John walked through the snow, the family dog Jack next to him. It would take about fifteen minutes to reach the depot. He could see the lights in the distance. The scarves in his hand, he walked towards it, still thinking about his brother.

Was he still alive? Or dead? And where was he? John had to know, he needed to know what had happened to his older brother.

At the depot, the soldier on guard handed John a piece of candy, while taking the scarves. ''Good boy'' he said, while ruffling through his hair. ''Do you know what has happened to my brother Alfred?'' he asked, hoping they would have some news this time. But the soldier just shook his head. ''No, we haven't found him yet. I'm sorry kid'' while walking towards the back of the depot to place the scarves to be transported to Europe.


	21. Chapter 21 Sending a letter

Alfred looked around in the barrack, about half of the beds were empty. He was starting to worry about his own life. The POWs had died of starvation, exhaustion and the cold of the winter. And spring was at least a whole month away.

Alfred was scared, he didn't want to die yet. But every day it was getting harder and harder to get up from bed, he didn't have much energy left and it felt like the snow they had to remove each day, was getting heavier.

The war needed to end soon otherwise he doubt if he would make until peace. But he had to write to his family one last time, they had to know what happened to him. Alfred knew his mother had to be close to a mental breakdown if she didn't know what happened with her son.

But the prisoners weren't allowed to write any letters, the Germans were scared the letter had code language in it to tell the enemy valuable information about behind the German frontline.

He had to find a possibility to send a letter. And the biggest chance of succeeding was when he could get a German to send it.

And it was like signing his own death sentence if he asked one of the guards in the camp, Alfred could only turn to one specific guard with blond hair and icy blue piercing eyes, although Alfred didn't know how he would react to this request. He did use him to escape out of the camp and it had been clear that Ludwig got really angry about that.

Absentminded his hand went to the red scar on his leg. No, he had to ask really careful, watching his words closely. One slight mistake and it could end much worse than just not being able to send a letter. Alfred reminded the cell he had been staying in for weeks and weeks. A shiver went up his spine, ever after he got put back in the barrack, he always made sure he wasn't alone. Alfred just couldn't cope with loneliness anymore.

He couldn't ask Arthur for help, the Brit would just scold him for being such a daredevil and preventing him to talk to Ludwig. Gilbert would do probably the same, trying to convince Alfred that the guards weren't anything like human anymore, not able to have mercy with anyone.

But Alfred knew for sure that Ludwig had a bit of humanity left, unlike most guards around here, he wasn't sadistic and cruel. Okey, maybe he shouldn't have shot Alfred when he tried to run away, but the Amercian was also slowly starting to understand why he shot him. If he hadn't, Alfred would have got away and that would end up in a lot of problems for the guards. It was and is their job to keep the prisoners inside of the camp.

Because the new tactics had worked even better than expected, the guards did their patrols with only one other German. And most of the time, the two guards split up to check the camp quicker, so they could return to the warm quarters quicker. Alfred hoped they did also this night.

Risking waiting for nothing, he waited outside of the barrack, standing in the shadow. When he was almost about to give up and return to his bed, he heard footsteps. Alfred waited a little longer, just to be sure it was really Ludwig and not just some other random German.

When Alfred saw it was Ludwig, he stepped out of the shadows. Ludwig heard the snow cracking behind him and grabbed his pistol, aiming at Alfred. ''Whooh! Ich bin es'' Alfred said, stopping in his tracks. Ludwig recognized his voice and put his pistol back. ''Don't startle me'' he said, a bit irritated. ''What is wrong? Why is you out of barrack?''

Alfred ignored the question and started talking. ''I have been in this camp for months and months now. My family has no idea where I am or if I'm even alive'' he said. Ludwig looked suspiciously at him but kept quiet. ''Can you help me? Can you sent a letter to my family for me?'' he asked, praying the German would help him.

But Ludwig was clearly not going to help him out. ''You are try escape again'' he snarled irritated, reaching for his pistol again. ''You will not send letter, you will not spy and send America information.'' Alfred shook his head, a bit worried, hoping Ludwig would keep his voice down to not alarm the other guard. ''No, I just want my family to know I'm still alive.'' But Ludwig wasn't easily convinced, he had learned from his previous mistake.

''Get back in the barrack and shut up. One more word and you will go to cell'' he threatened while pointing at the building with the isolating cells. ''No, no, don't. I only want them to know I'm still alive'' Alfred said, slightly worried while quickly pacing back inside of the barrack, when he looked over his shoulder, he could see Ludwig glancing at him. He was actually a bit surprised Ludwig had reacted this aggressive, threatening with locking him away in solitary confinement.

Alfred sighed deeply, that didn't go really well. Ludwig had thought he had again tried to escape and trying to send valuable information back to the American army.

When he layed in his bed, he was thinking about how he now could get a message to his family. Ludwig wasn't an option any more. Alfred sighed deeply, pulling the blanket over himself to protect him against the cold.


	22. Chapter 22 Freedom is coming closer

Alfred noticed a difference in the behavior of all the Germans in the camp, they were more careful and at the same time more easily annoyed. There was certainly something going on, although Alfred couldn't really find out what was the cause of this change.

Instead of being put to work, they got locked up inside of the barrack, only a hour a day they could get out, guarded by more Germans than usual.

A few days later, Ludwig had called for Alfred. The American had thought he was about to be locked up again and his heart sank in his shoes. He walked out of the barrack, a few feet behind the German.

''Please, don't lock me up again!'' he said, his voice softer than usual and a hint of fear in his eyes. Ludwig turned around, frowning before he remembered what the American was talking about. ''No, where I sent letter?'' he asked. Alfred was stunned, a few days before Ludwig had threatened with locking him up because of asking to send a letter and now /he/ was the one who asked where to send the letter.

Ludwig wrote the address down on a piece of paper and let Alfred check it. ''You family will know you are alive but no more'' Ludwig made clear to Alfred, clearly still a bit scared that Alfred would otherwise send information to the army.

The guard looked over his shoulder when he heard snow cracking under boots, he pushed Alfred roughly back in the barrack and locked the doors.

Alfred had trouble to keep from falling down, grabbing one of the bunk beds. He could still feel the firm grip on his left arm when he got pushed back in, when he raised his sleeve, he could see a few dark purple bruises forming on his skinny arm.

The rations had been decreased again and he could feel his strength fading away. He was nothing like the strong soldier from a few months ago, before that day of the gas attack. And judging from the grip of Ludwig, the Germans still had enough food to keep them strong and healthy.

Arthur sat on the edge of Gilberts bed, a worried look on his face. Gilbert was sleeping, a feverish look on his face. The German had caught a cold and was coughing just like the Dutchy had done. The shot still resounded in his ears whenever he heard someone coughing.

John was again send to the depot, to bring more scarves. As loyal as a dog could be, Jack was right beside him. The snow wasn't as worse as first, but still it covered the landscape in a white blanket.

He could see a someone coming towards him, a soldier. ''Ey, kid!'' the soldier called to him, picking up his pace and waiving with something in his hand. John closed his eyes a bit to get a better look at the thing in his hands. His heart skipped a beat when he saw it was an envelope. John started running, as fast as the snow would let him. ''Your brothers name is Alfred, right?'' the man in uniform asked before handing him the envelope. John nodded quickly, ripping the envelope open.

He got a bit disappointed when he saw the letter in it, only his brothers name and alive on a small piece of paper. It wasn't written in Alfreds handwriting, John frowned. When he turned the envelope, he could see the letter had been sent from Germany. But after all this time, even this small sign of life felt like he was standing in front of him. Dropping the scarves on the ground, John ran back home with the letter to show his mother.

After a few days, Gilbert was able to stand again, although he was still not fully recovered. A few more deaths in the barrack left them with more blankets, it could be considered rude to rob a corpse from his blanket and clothes but if you didn't have anything to loose, borders fade rather quickly.

Alfred was glad there wasn't any work anymore, otherwise Gilbert would surely haven't made it. But at the same time, it scared him a bit. Why were those Germans that careful nowadays? They would lock them in, like they were some kind of dangerous animals.

Maybe it wasn't something inside of the camp that was making the Germans freak out, maybe it was something on the outside. His heart jumped with joy, maybe the allied forces were breaking through the frontlines! They were sure going to be rescued soon, just a little longer and then he could hug his family again.

But when thinking about his family, he thought about the letter and because of that about Ludwig. What was going to happen to him if the allied soldiers occupied the camp? Alfred had a bad feeling about that, he could imagine the rage of the prisoners and soldiers against the camp guards. They would be lynched alive.

Alfred suddenly didn't know really sure if he wanted the allies to rescue the camp, he didn't want a massacre. Although that was exactly what had been happening for months in this camp, he thought immediately after that.

Alfred was torn apart, not knowing what he really wanted.


	23. Chapter 23 Death March

The door was opened roughly and the guards started shouting to them to get up and out of the barrack. Some of the prisoners got off their beds and started folding their blanket, used to the routine. But this time, the Germans cut them off and pushed them towards the door.

Still a bit sleepy, woken by the loud calling, Alfred jumped of his bed, looking around. It was a few weeks later, the nights were still cold but the snow had finally vanished. They still hadn't been permitted to go outside, locked up in the barrack.

He found Ludwig among the other guards. Even he seemed to be in a rush to get everyone out. Alfred saw Arthur, next to Gilbert. Outside of the barrack, he saw the other prisoners being chased of their barracks too.

Their numbers had decreased, almost three quarters of them had vanished since autumn. Alfred knew there had been many deaths, but he hadn't expected it to be this worse.

All the guards were at the square when every prisoner was there. They were heavily armed, with extra ammunition. For a moment, Alfred thought they were going to shoot them. But the gate opened and the Germans pushed them out of the camp.

Alfred was just a few feet away from Ludwig, he could see the German clenching his rifle tightly, his fingers turning white.

The commander was riding a horse in front of the group, another guard walked beside him, the other Germans walked at the sides of the group, each about 10 meters away from another one.

_What is going on? _Alfred thought, staying close to Arthur and Gilbert. This was the perfect time to run, they were out of the camp and a lot of distraction around them. But something told him if he ran away right now, the bullet wouldn't hit his leg again.

He didn't know why they left the camp with all of the prisoners, marching to the east. After being locked up for so long, his fitness had become worse. Every time someone slowed down or stopped, the Germans hit him until the prisoner continued walking. There had to be something the Germans were running from, but what?

After hours of walking, the first shot resounded through the air, Alfreds head snapped towards the source of the shot. A prisoner from one of the other barracks had been too exhausted to get back up again. ''Laufen!'' the guard who shot him ordered, while reloading his gun. A man who wasn't quick enough, got hit in his back by the back of the rifle.

They walked until the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon. About half of the guards went to sleep, the others stayed awake to guard the prisoners, even more nervous than usually. Every time a man who made a unsuspected move, a gun was aimed at him.

Although it was cold in the open sky, none of the Germans made an attempt to make a fire. What or who was chasing them? Why were they this nervous and scared?

Early in the morning, the sun had just appeared in the distance, the Germans kicked everyone up on their feet, although a few prisoners clearly hadn't made it through the cold night. Their bodies were left behind. The second day of the march was even worse, shot resounded even more frequent than yesterday. The pace was sped up, the horse of the commander was almost trotting.

Alfred tried to talk to Arthur and Gilbert but their conversations were cut off quickly, commanded to be quiet. But in those few seconds, Gilbert told them he thought it were the allies who they were running away from.

That would explain why the Germans were that scared, determined to get away from the camp as fast as possible.

The bad living circumstances had weakened the prisoners, a fifth of them had died already and it was just the second day of marching.

After a few hours, Alfred heard shooting in the distance. He stopped and turned around, as so many others did too. The allies were getting closer! They would be free at last! His head turned again when he heard a galloping horse at the head of the group. The commander had kicked his horse harshly to get him to gallop. The horse sprinted away, before anyone could reacted, soon the commander and his horse disappeared out of sight in the woods.

Then the chaos started, the guards were too shocked to do anything, their commander had just abandoned them with a big group of prisoners, and the allies were just a few kilometers away. You could see the fear written on their faces.

The POWs were the first to come over the shock, they turned to the guards and paced towards them, grabbing the rifles and fighting to take the guns from them. Alfred was looking for Ludwig. The German saved his life several times, Alfred couldn't let him being lynched by the prisoners. He saw him about twenty meters behind him, still a firm grip on his rifle, although the Russians hit him square in the face, his nose started to bleed and there was a deep cut just above his eyebrow.

Alfred tried to go through the group of people, to reach him in time. But he saw Ludwig already falling on his knees after a blow in the stomach. The rifle was pulled away and so were his pistol and the extra ammunition.

A few shots around them were fired. Germans tried to fight the prisoners off by shooting them, a few POWs were killed. But also prisoners who were fighting for the weapons accidently fired them, killing German or POW.

The other prisoners soon joined the fight and the German were defeated. There was a bit of confusion, after so many months of being a prisoner and locked up, they were finally free again. But what were they supposed to do? They were still in hostile territory.

''We must kill the nazi's!'' one of the prisoners shouted fiercely. The rest started cheering, a short look to Ludwig made clear to Alfred that he was scared, although he desperately tried to hide it in his last minutes. He wanted to die brave, not as a coward. Not all the Germans were as brave as he, they were making up all kinds of excuses. ''Befehl ist Befehl!'' the German who had locked him up in the isolating cell said, his voice shaking with fear.


	24. Chapter 24 Switched

**Hello! I have made a writing contest. Click on the link! watch?v=ygMhXAoorMU**

A few prisoners grabbed the guns which were thrown at the ground and paced back to the captured guards, anger written on their face and forced down on their knees. '"Wait!'' Alfred shouted, he had to think of something before they would kill Ludwig. The prisoners stopped and looked at Alfred, tilting their heads. ''If we kill them now, they will have a quick and relatively painless death. Is that what they deserve? No, they must suffer like we did!'' he said, hoping it would be enough. And it seemed to work, the guns were lowered. ''Then we'll beat them to death'' Alfred bit his tongue, that was also not what he wanted.

''Isn't it a better idea to take them with us as prisoners? The whole world must know what they did to us, everyone must know their faces. Yes, we can make them suffer for a few minutes, but we can also make them suffer the same as we did for months and months in a camp. If we take them to the allied soldier, just a few kilometers behind us, we can do that!''He hoped his plan would work, this was the best he could do. Otherwise he could be considered a spy for the Germans.

The other men were clearly not really happy about the plan, but they agreed at the end. Alfred shortly captured Ludwigs eyes, seeing anger and betrayal in them. Alfred quickly looked away. The guards wrists were tied up behind their backs with improvised pieces of ropes.

A few POWs checked the bindings, they had to make sure the Germans wouldn't be able to escape. Alfred coughed to ask for the attention of the group. ''We will keep the pistols but we will have to get rid of those rifles. We can't take the risk that the Allies mistake us for Germans and shoot us. But if the prisoners want to escape, we still have the pistols to shoot them, just keep the pistols hiden'' It was clear that Alfred was pushing the limits, asking them to let the guards who tortured them for months live and throwing away the rifles.

But to Alfreds great relieve, the Russian helped him, talking the other prisoners into getting rid of the rifles. The rifles were destroyed, to make sure nobody who found them could use them, in case the commander returned.

While tying up the Germans, a few prisoners already walked in front of the group, to warn the Allies that they weren't the enemy. With a harsh kick, the nazis were forced to stand up. Ludwig glared at Alfred, how dared that American betray him again! This was the second time! And this time it was even worse, instead of risking being fired and put in a camp, they were put in a camp for sure and most likely killed.

Their commander just betrayed them, left them alone when the Allies were approaching, the coward. Ludwig stared at the ground while walking. He could hear the shooting coming closer. When he shortly looked at his fellow guards, he could see the fear written on their faces. They had been cruel to the prisoners and they were going to pay for it. But Ludwig knew he wasn't safe either, although he wasn't as cruel and sadistic as the others, he was still a German guard. For court, he would be the same as the others, if he even got a trial.

He had to find some way to escape, to get away before he would be locked up in a camp. And if possible, take revenge on Alfred for betraying him like this.

Ludwig really thought the American wouldn't do that, he really thought they had become friends, or at least something like that. But it was clear that Alfred had just used him, become 'friends' with a German guard and escape more easily. Ludwig grumbled in anger.

Alfred didn't know how long it took before they reached the Allies, but it seemed ages. He was almost free, almost. If they reached those soldiers, they were save. On the way back, they crossed the dead bodies at the side of the road. Those prisoners hadn't made it until the end.

He saw something moving at the end of the road, his heart jumped. It were the Allies! The group started calling for them, even the Russians tried to speak English. The soldiers seemed much healthier than they were, clean and good clothing against the cold weather. And most of all, they had food with them! Chocolate! Alfred forgot about Ludwig, only focused on the food.

The soldiers were mostly American, about his age. They shared their rations with the freed prisoners, trying to divide as equal as possible. From the corner of his eye, he could see Gilbert getting a piece of chewing gum.

The soldiers laughed loudly at his frantic attempts to eat the chewing gum, Gilbert had most likely never seen it before in his life and didn't know if wasn't really for eating.

A general shook his head disapprovingly to the soldiers and handed Gilbert bread. The other prisoners swarmed around the general, hoping to get some.

But the general ordered his men not to give any more to the prisoners who had been in captivity for months and months. After such as long time of food shortage, it wasn't very good for them to eat a lot in a short amount of time. Most POWs had learned this in their training and understood it, although food was still hard to resist, but most other prisoners didn't. They didn't got why they couldn't eat now, they were hungry!

A group of soldiers was ordered to take the group of freed prisoners and the Germans back to base camp and make sure they visited a doctor.

Ludwig and the other Germans were ignored, only a few glances and curses were thrown to their direction. He saw the prisoners fighting for the food, he hadn't known the food shortage had been that bad that they would fight each other to get more.

After about fifteen minutes, a group of soldiers walked towards them, guns in their hands. Ludwig saw the worried expressions on the other guards faces, realizing they couldn't understand English and had no idea what was going on. '' Mach dir keine Sorgen. Sie gehen uns nicht ermorden'' he tried to calm them down. _Atleast not yet…_he thought.

But before he could translate what the general had ordered the soldiers, the back of a rifle was slammed against the back of his head. ''Shut up, you damn nazi!'' a soldier snarled, supported by a few others next to him. The American soldier was maybe one or two years younger than him, barely an adult. Ludwig kept his mouth shut, but the look in his eyes made clear what he really thought about it.

Immediately after arrival at the camp, the Germans were pushed towards the cellblock. Ludwig was locked up in a cell, separated from the others. He could hear discussing outside of the cell.

''I am not nazi!'' a familiar voice said, irritated. ''You're German'' an unknown voice responded. ''So? I have locked up in camp too!'' Then Alfreds voice spoke. ''He is a German but he's not a nazi, you see, he ran away from the German army and was locked up because he was a deserter. He isn't the enemy'' A deep sigh was hearable. ''But we can't know that for sure'' Gilbert grumbled frustrated, unable to make clear he wasn't the enemy. ''One night'' the general finally stated after discussing a few more minutes. ''After that we we'll probably found out if he is or isn't a nazi'' Under loud protest, Gilbert was pushed into another cell, Alfred still trying to convince the general.

Their voices died away and Ludwig was back in the silence again. He leaned against the wall and suddenly remembered Alfred being locked up after his escape. It was as dark as the cell in the camp and also isolated from everyone else.

Much later, he couldn't get to sleep, every time he closed his eyes he saw the look on the faces of the people he had killed. Jews, soldiers, deserters and the worst one of them all, the look of the Dutchy. The silence made it even worse, every time he saw those blue eyes in fear, he could still hear the gunshot resounding in his ears.


	25. Chapter 25 Remembering the worst

((Don't really like this chapter, but I had to update. From now on, it will become even harder to write, because school has started again and I'm locked up between those four wall all day))

Alfred woke up when he felt something on his leg. He opened his eyes a bit and saw a white coat, the white coat of a doctor. He shot up and pulled his legs to his chest, his eyes widened in fear. ''Lass mich in ruhe!'' he said. But instead of being in the prisoner camp and the doctor being the sadistic German one, a strange face looked at him in confusion. ''What's wrong?'' he asked, not understanding why Alfred was acting like this.

He remembered what happened yesterday, they had been found by the Allies, he was safe now. He wasn't going to be tortured anymore. ''Nothing…'' he replied, putting his legs back down again. The American doctor continued examining the scar on his leg. ''Hmm… It isn't very neatly stitched up. I wonder if he even cared if the wound got infected or not'' he said. ''But it's healed now, no need to reopen it again'' Alfred sighed in relief.

Then he remembered Gilbert, who was probably still locked up in that cell. He sat up, flung his legs over the side of the bed and got up, pacing out of the room and towards the officers quarters. He still had the worn-out uniform on, too tired to change last night.

But before reaching the quarters, he could hear cursing in the cellblock. ''Gottverdammt! I am no nazi!'' the voice yelled furiously. Alfred was half running, half walking towards the cells, seeing the general, Gilbert and a few American soldiers.

''He isn't a nazi'' Alfred said, the general turned his head in surprise when he heard a voice. ''Shouldn't you stay in bed? You look very tired'' the general said. ''No…no… I'm fine.'' Alfred replied hastly. ''He isn't a nazi. I will stand in for it. Just let him go.'' The general was quiet for a moment, thinking. ''Okey… but if that German makes one mistake, I will blame the fault on you. Understood?''

Alfred nodded quickly and the American soldiers released their grip on Gilbert, who shot them an angry glare back. ''What is going to happen to the other Germans?'' Alfred asked, while Gilbert walked out of the cellblock, still muttering curses under his breath.

''Going to send them to a prison camp, I guess. But I don't have time to do that, I'm going to leave tomorrow to fight the rest of those nazi's and I still got to do the paperwork to send them over there.'' Alfred had an idea. ''I can help you with the paperwork and make sure those prisoners aren't lying.'' The general frowned, not sure if it was a good idea or not, it would save him a lot of time, but on the other hand… ''…Are you sure you want to see those bastards again? They did lock you up for several months and killed friends of you''

Alfred replied a few seconds later. ''Yes, I can handle it. Besides, after I return to America, I will rejoin the forces to fight against those nazi's'' he said quickly. He had to see Ludwig again, he couldn't just leave him here, to the mercy of the war court.

About a hour later, he was in another room, sitting on a chair. Next to him, the general and in front of him a German guard. It wasn't Ludwig, but Alfred still recognized him. It was the one who had beaten him the first time in the camp.

The interrogation went on and on for hours, asking and asking. Finally, the German could go back to his cell. The Germans even accused the other guards from all kinds of things, hoping they wouldn't get convicted of the most horrible crimes they had commited.

Finally, Ludwig was pushed into the room by the American soldiers. They pushed him down on the chair, Ludwig glared at the general. '' Deine Name?'' the general asked, not even looking up from the paper. ''I can talk English, Ludwig Beilschmidt'' The German said, a bit snarling. ''Beilschmidt…'' the general muttered while going through the pile of papers. ''Ah, got it. Accused of shooting a minor to death'' the general said, looking the prisoner in the eyes. ''True, but I killed him because he had lots of pain'' Ludwig replied. ''Yeah… ofcourse. I won't think the court will believe you story'' the general said, writing on the paper and again staring at his notes. Ludwig sighed and leaned back in the chair, knowing discussing was to no avail.

''Erhm… sir? I was actually there and the German is speaking the truth. The Dutch teen was severely ill. And because the camp doctor refused to treat us, he would have died anyway, his death would have only been a lot slower'' Ludwig again looked at Alfred, a bit surprised the American would stand up for him. ''So he shot him to end his suffering.'' The general looked from Alfred to Ludwig and back. ''Hmpf… I'll write it down but still it's considered murder.''

After another hour of interrogating about the killing of the prisoners and making the POWs dig their graves, Ludwig was also send back.

''Is it true? Did he really kill that Dutch kid because of mercy?'' The general said, grabbing Alfreds shoulder when he walked out of the room at the end of the day. The general immediately released after feeling every single bone of the shoulder under his hand, Alfred was terribly skinny.

''Yes, he first tried to get some medicines when he noticed a lot of the prisoners in our barrack were ill, but the doctor refused to give any. He isn't as bad as the others. Although he's still a German'' Alfred quickly added the last few words when he saw the eyebrows of the general rising.


	26. Chapter 26 Becoming a deserter

The general looked at him with a suspicious look. Alfred realized he was close to acting like a traitor, a crime which was punished with a bullet. But he kept looking the general in the eyes, the moment he would look down, it would be the same like admitting he was a traitor. The tense was almost unbearable, the general could choose about his life this very moment.

After a few long moments, the general looked away shortly. ''The Germans are still our enemy, don't forget that. I would advise you to pick a side'' His eyes again glared into Alfreds. ''Yes sir, the Allied side of course.'' The general was quiet for another moment. ''Well, it has probably been a long day and your long imprisonment surely aren't making things any easier. I'll skip reporting this''

It felt like a heavy burden felt of Alfreds shoulders, it wasn't going to be reported! If it had been reported, he would have certainly gotten into trouble, maybe even face military court. Alfred thought of Ludwig, had he had the same trouble with his superiors in that camp? Because not hating the enemy with every single blood drop inside of your veins.

The general guided Alfred towards the canteen for dinner. The freed prisoners still didn't get the full amount of food, because they weren't used to it, but it was enough to fill their stomach and make the feeling of hunger disappear.

Gilbert was still receiving angry glares from the American soldiers, who still couldn't accept he wasn't a nazi and also had been locked up in that camp. But he tried to ignore them the best he could, grumbling something back about him being too awesome to be a nazi.

The Russian was more quiet than ever, except for one all of the other Russians had died. He just stared at his food, sometimes taking a bite. Most of them had died in the past few weeks, due starvation and illnesses. Illnesses that could have easily been treated if given the right medication.

The Russians best friend had died when they were already freed, immediately rushed to a doctor when he collapsed. But he couldn't be saved, dying under the hands of the doctor. He had been just skin and bones, surviving the cold, used to it from his fatherland, but he couldn't cope with the flu.

That night, Alfred couldn't get to sleep, turning and twisting in his bed. Finally, he threw the blankets of him and got up, feeling the icy cold floor beneath his feet. The rest was still asleep, Alfred grabbed a flashlight from the end of his bed and quickly got dressed, putting his shoes on his feet.

Outside, it was light because of the watchtowers around the camp, Alfred had the feeling he was back in the German camp. But instead of the flag of Germany, the American flag waved in the wind at the top of the building left to him.

Alfred quickly paced towards the building with the cells. When he put his hand in his pocket, he felt the bar of chocolate he still had after the day they had been freed. He closed the door behind him as softly as he could, when he heard voices.

How could he have been that stupid? Of course there were guards! On his toes, he walked further, looking around the corner. He saw the guards, playing with some cards, they were sitting around a table at the end of the right hand of the hallway. Ludwigs cell was in the next hallway, at the left side(*).

Alfred looked at the board with all the keys at the crossing. He thought the cell of Ludwig was number 11, or at least, he hoped he was right. He snatched the key of the board and quickly crossed the corridor, hoping he wouldn't be seen by the guards.

The guards were still talking loudly and drinking while gambling money over the cards. Alfred counted down the numbers of the cells. _7….8….9….10….11_ He hoped he was right, if he opened a cell with another German guard, the German would most likely try to run, warning the guards and by then Alfred would be officially pronounced a traitor and a deserter.

He breathed a few times deeply before putting the key in the lock and turning it. It felt like the door was making an awful lot of sound, but the guards still seemed to hear nothing. He lit the flashlight when he saw nothing inside of the cell, a shadow stood up from the ground and walked towards him with a threatening pace. He was starting to think he had picked the wrong cell.

But when he pointed the flashlight at the shadow, he saw the blonde hair, the German had his eyes closed because of the bright light. ''Is that really necessary?'' he growled angrily. ''Hush!'' Alfred whispered, entering the cell and closing the door.

Ludwig had opened his eyes, or at least one of them. The other one didn't seem able to open, black and blue. There was a bloody scratch across his eyebrow and nose. He was glaring at Alfred. ''What?'' he snarled furious.

Alfred was quiet for a while, he was ashamed that American soldiers would lower themselves as much as to beat an already imprisoned German, defenseless. That was just low, that was something only nazi's would do.

''I'm sorry'' he mumbled, reaching in the pocket of his coat, getting the bar of chocolate out. Ludwigs glare switched to the food in his hand. Alfred handed it over to him. Ludwig was clearly hungry, he had probably hadn't eaten anything in the past few days of imprisonment. Wait, no longer, since the day they left the camp. ''Thanks'' Ludwig shortly replied.

The chocolate bar was gone in seconds, but Ludwig kept glaring at him. ''What are you doing here?'' he asked again. Alfred listened if the guards had heard them, before answering. ''If you face trial, you are sure to be sentenced to the firing squad. They don't have much mercy for Germans.''

Ludwigs glare seemed to harden. ''So what? What can I do about it? I'm still locked up, remember? Are you only here to irritate me and point out that I'm going to die?'' Ludwig did a step forwards, clenching his fists.

Alfred did quickly a step backwards, although Ludwig was trying to hide it, he was obviously scared. He didn't want to die yet. ''Calm down. Remember /I/ was the one who helped you with the accusation about killing the teen?'' he asked, still not sure about his safety. Ludwig was sometimes unpredictable, understandable if you knew in what kind of a situation he was.

Ludwig seemed to calm down a bit, unclenching his fists and stepping a few paces back, until his back was against the wall. ''Sorry…'' he muttered to Alfred, sounding broken, knowing his death was coming closer with every passing minute.

''I can get you out of here, get you to America, get you a new identity and a new life.'' Alfred said. Ludwig looked up, looking confused to Alfred. ''Why? Why would you do that?'' his question sounded. The American didn't immediately reply. ''Because you were the one who protected me the last few months, keeping me from dying. I think I owe you. If you trust me, I can get you out of here''

**A bit difficult to explain, but the cellblock is like a turned H. At the first crossing, into the right corridor: the guards. The second crossing, to the left corridor: Ludwig cell. **


	27. Chapter 27 Finding the files

**((I'm actually curious which chapter you guys liked most. I will try to write next chapter with the same inspiration and style as that one))**

Ludwig looked at Alfred, as if hoping he could see the truth in his eyes. It was clear the German still didn't trust him fully, was he going to help him or going to lure him into a trap? At the end, he closed his eyes. ''Okey'' he sighed deeply, hoping he wasn't making the wrong decision, before again looking at the American.

About ten minutes later, Alfred again left the cell, listening carefully if the guards were still at their table with the cards. After locking the cell again, he sneaked through the hallways, only having to cross the last one. Alfred did a short prayer before crossing. ''Ey!'' a voice rang through the building, Alfred felt his heart drop to his feet, he froze on his spot.

He had been caught, he wouldn't be able to let Ludwig escape anymore and he would have to face military court. His family would hate and never want to see him again. If he was lucky, he would only end up in jail, if he wasn't lucky, he would end 6 feet under ground.

But the next few words made Alfred frown. ''You're cheating!'' What? Did they mean he was a deserter? But when Alfred didn't hear footsteps coming closer, he turned around and peeked into the hallway of the guards.

One of the guards was shouting at the other one, accusing him of cheating. The other one was defending himself, saying he was just good at Black Jack.

Alfred turned back, placed the key of Ludwig cell back and walked out of the building, relieved he hadn't been caught. Outside, it was still calm and quiet, but the sun was already starting to rise beyond the horizon.

Alfred sneaked back to the building, kicked out his shoes and went to bed, curling up beneath the blankets.

A few hours later, he woke up. At breakfast, he was absentminded staring at the wall, playing with his food. This earned him a suspicious look from Arthur. ''Alfred?'' he asked. ''Hmm?'' Alfred was again concentrated, eating some bread.

''What's bugging you last time? You don't pay any attention anymore'' Arthur was clearly not trusting Alfred. ''Nothing, just… just that stuff with those Germans. They keep repeating they don't know anything and claiming they aren't guilty. Although all of us saw what they did'' Alfred lied, he couldn't have Arthur blocking the plan.

Arthur nodded, although he was clearly not entirely convinced by the American. ''Just keep out of trouble'' he warned Alfred, looking him in the eyes, trying to find something that would betray anything of what Alfred was thinking.

The next days were difficult, Alfred had to get to records and documents a normal soldier would never see in his life, don't even mention a freed POW. Every excuse to get to the administration room, he took with both hands.

It was a huge room, with cabinets alongside the wall, the right side full of files of German spies, deserters and prisoners. At the left side of the room, the files of the soldiers, freed POWs and other freed prisoners.

For once, Alfred hated that the Germans were more organized than them, he was sure the Germans had a list of where every file was. Here, at the American camp, Alfred had to go through numerous of files to find Ludwigs and his.

It didn't matter if you were a soldier of a freed prisoner, the files were just randomly put in the cabins. Only a strict separation between Axis and Allies.

The administration room was in a center part of the main building, if anyone walked into the room, Alfred could be easily seen and considered suspicious. He had absolutely no permission to enter this room. Only the general and a few others.

Alfred was lucky the room didn't have a lock, otherwise he would have never been able to find their files.

The first one he found was his own. Quickly reading it, he found out that everything he had ever said around here, was noted and put into the file. About serving in the 5th division and getting captured after a gas attack. About his failed escape and the torturing doctor. About his wounds and his behavior.

Even him defending Ludwig was written down, who he was defending, why and what about. Alfred felt like he was being watched by everyone in this camp, he felt like he was the enemy.

It took a bit longer before finding Ludwigs file, he first found Gilberts, which was also on the Axis side of the room. All statements of other POWs about Gilbert were written down, some of them weren't sure if he was a German spy or really a deserter. A red stamp crossed the first page , _unreliable._

When Alfred heard footsteps coming closer, all the blood drained from his face, quickly putting Gilberts file back in the cabinet before hiding in the corner of the room, behind a few cabinets, praying nobody would see him.

Some soldier walked into the room, a few files in his hand. He walked to the Axis side, his face had an annoyed expression, too lazy to find their original places. He just threw them on top of a few others before walking back.

Alfred held his breath, the man was just half a meter away from him, if he just looked behind that cabin, he would have been caught. He closed his eyes until he heard the door closing again.

Quickly, the American grabbed the files, they were all of Germans. Germans who had been his guards. The last one belonged to Ludwig. At the end of the file, there was a page, the ink not completely dry yet._ Is calm but doesn't cooperate. Refusing to admit he's a nazi or a murderer. Does admit he has killed people. _

Only these few sentences were written down, a bit careless, ink spots all over the page.

Alfred marked Ludwigs and his file with a small pencil dot at the back of the file. If anyone would see it, they would certainly think it was just an untidy file, nobody would suspect a thing. But it would help Alfred find the files back in no time if he needed them again.

Making sure nobody was in the hallway, he again left the administration room, returning to the sleeping building.


	28. Chapter 28 A train home

''/What/ are you doing?'' a voice sounded, startling Alfred when he had returned to the sleeping building. When he turned around, he saw Gilbert and Arthur looking at him. ''Ehr...ehm... I... ehm'' he stuttered, not able to find a good excuse. ''Vhat are you up to?'' Gilbert asked, his accent still clearly hearable in his speaking. ''N-nothing'' Alfred finally said. But it was clear his excuses weren't working this time.

''No, you are hiding something and we want to know what and why'' Arthur said clearly, a bit too loud in Alfreds opinion. ''Shhj! Keep it down!'' He said, looking around if someone had heard. ''I can't tell you right now, but you will just have to trust me'' he tried to shut them up.

''You will find out eventually, just trust me now. I'm not doing anything dangerous –or atleast too dangerous- but it is for the right cause.'' Alfred tried to convince them.

It took a while to convince them, they had promised him at the end that they would keep their mouths shut, trusting Alfred.

A few days later, a few of the freed prisoners received a letter. A letter which told them that they could finally go back home! In 48 hours, they would be on a train and then on a ship back home.

Gilbert would also head to America, he would go on the same ship as Alfred. But Arthur wasn't going to America, he would return to his family in Great Brittain.

Some others were less lucky, the ones from Russia or other eastern countries had to wait until it was safe enough to go back.

Packing their stuff, Alfred noticed Gilbert was very excited to see his new homeland. But his first happiness soon turned to anger when he received a second letter. The German curses attracted lots of attention of the rest of the POWs.

Gilbert was furious. When Alfred grabbed the letter, he saw that if Gilbert wanted to go to America, that he had to report every month just because he was a German. ''I'm not a nazi!'' Gilbert shouted before being shut up by Arthur.

Alfred reread the letter, maybe because of this Gilbert would want to help in his plan. If they succeeded, Gilbert wouldn't have to report every month.

Two days later, they left with a train. Alfred sat down on a comfortable bench, staring out of the window. All the German prisoners were locked up somewhere in the back of the train, heavily guarded.

Alfred knew he had to act quickly and fast. Gilbert was sitting in front of him, Arthur next to Gilbert. To prevent Arthur from finding out about the plan, he stood up and signed to Gilbert to go to the balcony to smoke a cigarette.

Arthur didn't smoke, convinced it was bad for your health. Gilber followed Alfred outside to the balcony, just half a meter away from the train rails. He was still in a bad mood because of the letter.

Alfred lit the cigarette and handed the lighter to Gilbert, blowing out some smoke. ''America, the land of freedom'' he said, staring to the landscape. Gilbert sniffed irritated. ''Yeah, except for me, I'm practically being locked up''

Alfred smiled lightly, his plan was going to work. ''It doesn't have to be, you don't have to report every month'' Gilbert inhaled the smoke before continuing. ''Then I will be caught, imprisoned and sent back to Germany. Yeah, great plan'' Alfred shook his head slowly. ''They don't have to know you're from Germany. You're English is good enough''

One of Gilberts eyebrows was slightly raised. ''Vhat do you mean? Has this something to do with your plan?'' he asked suspicious. All or nothing, Alfred thought. He nodded. ''I can get you a new passport, a American passport.'' Gilbert still wasn't sure about it. ''And how are you planning to get me a new passport?'' he asked.

''Let's say I got everything I need. I only ask one favour of you'' Gilbert turned his head to Alfred. ''Vhat?'' ''You're not the only one who's getting a new identity, I need you in the first place to shut up about him. Second you will have to help me to get the documents I need and third be a look out.''

Gilbert thought for a moment. ''I already know vho you're going to help. And I'm telling you, don't do it. He's a real nazi, a bad guy. Don't you remember that Dutch kid? He'll get vhat he deserves.'' Alfred didn't immediately reply, throwing the cigarette away. ''I can't explain everything right now. And yes, that's him. You will just have to trust me''

Gilbert nodded, before also throwing the cigarette away and returning inside. It was getting dark outside and dinner had already been served. Arthur was waiting for the others to return, the plates on a small table between the benches.

There wasn't one more word spoken between Gilbert and Alfred for the rest of the travel. The next morning, Alfred woke Gilbert up early. He knew where the documents where which he needed.

Gilbert waited outside, while Alfred rummaged through the files. He soon noticed the marks on them, quickly opening them , getting the papers out and replacing them with the ones he had he kept in his pocket. The papers he hid in his jacket before going back. Gilbert didn't ask what he had done, he just hoped it would work.


	29. Chapter 29 Smoking a cigarette

When Arthur and Gilbert were asleep, Alfred got up from his bed in the train and walked back to the balcony. There, he ripped the documents to shreds before throwing them off the train. Nobody would ever find those papers back.

The next obstacle was even more difficult, papers weren't guarded but prisoners most certainly were. Alfred thought for a moment if it was still a good idea , but he couldn't go back now anymore, he had already destroyed the files and replaced them.

Alfred closed his eyes, feeling the cold evening air around him. He had a plan, but it wasn't very clear. If something went wrong, he would be accused of treason, Gilbert would be considered a nazi and Ludwig a escapee.

Any mistake would result in huge troubles. But if the plan worked, the benefits were also huge.  
Alfred returned inside, rummaging through his suitcase, occasionally checking over his shoulder if no one was watching him.

It was an uniform, an American one. He had stolen it at the laundromat. Alfred checked his watch, he knew every time at 2.00 AM the guards switched.

In the German camp, the guards that were on duty waited for the others to replace them. Alfred had noticed that, although it was protocol, the Americans didn't really care for those rules, nothing every happened.

Alfred checked his watch and cursed softly, he had only 5 minutes left. He quickly hid the uniform beneath his clothes, before walking to Gilberts bunk to wake him up.

He held a finger vertically before his lips to make sure he had to stay quiet, from the look of Gilberts eyes, he could clearly see the German wasn't very happy about being woken up in the middle of the night.

Alfred signed Gilbert to follow. When they were far enough away from Arthur, he started talking. ''Don't ask, just do. You must talk to those guards for at least ten minutes. I don't care what you talk about, just keep them busy.'' He whispered, pointing at the new guards who were getting ready to go to replace the others.

Gilbert sent him a not understanding look, but he did as he was asked. The guards didn't seem really happy when they saw Gilbert, although proven Gilbert wasn't a nazi, they still considered him one.

Alfred lit a cigarette on the balcony, just in front of the last wagon, where the prisoners were locked up. He waited until 2.00 AM. The only thing the Americans were very punctual about, was the end of their shift. Two noisy guards left the last wagon, walked over the small bridge between the two and walked into the next one.

That was the moment when Alfred threw his cigarette away and stepped into the last wagon. It was much colder than in the other ones, six doors, three on each side. Alfred grabbed the map on the table. Left middle was Ludwigs door.

He grabbed the pencil and scratched the name away, underneath it he wrote four letters. _Died_  
Alfred hoped the guards would just assume the German had died on the train and was thrown off. He at least hoped they wouldn't start an investigation.

After he had done that, he looked for the keys. His heart sank in his shoes when he found out there weren't any. He had actually hoped the guards were that stupid that they would just leave the keys.

Alfred was well aware that he had not much time left, he rummaged through his pockets to find something he could use. From the files he had destroyed, he found a paperclip. For a moment, he stared at it. Would it work?

He bended the paperclip like he had read in so much books. Adrenaline rushing through his veins, he stepped towards the door on the left, the one in the middle.

The metal turned a few times in the lock before Alfred heard a click, and indeed, when he tried to open the door, it slightly did.

Alfred looked at his watch, 5 more minutes. He stepped into the cell, hoping it was the correct one and hoping they didn't had put the prisoners randomly in the cells.

Two piercing blue eyes stared back from the darkness. Alfred sighed relieved, got the uniform and threw it to Ludwig. ''You got two minutes, do what I say and I can get you out of here''

Ludwig stared at him in surprise before quickly unbuttoning his shirt and throwing on the American one. Alfred left the cell, checking if Gilbert had succeeded in keeping them busy.

In less than two minutes, Ludwig was out of his cell. It looked a bit weird, the uniform was a bit too small and Alfred wasn't used to see the German in an Allied uniform.

Alfred grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of the wagon, over the bridge and onto the balcony. He saw the guards walking towards them.

The American quickly pulled out two cigarettes, litting them and handing one to Ludwig. ''Don't look'' he warned him, before turning his back to the balcony and bridge, staring into the darkness.

He could only hope Ludwig got the hint and wouldn't make eye contact with the guards. Alfred heard the door open and the guards get out of the wagon. Alfred tried to act as normal as possible. Well, as possible, how normal could you act when you just freed a German prisoner of war and guards were walking next to you, only half a meter away.

His heart slowed down when he heard the guards walk to the last wagon. They hadn't noticed Ludwig as an escapee. He threw the cigarette away and looked shortly at the stars, just like the stars on the American flag. He didn't feel like a traitor, he had done the right thing.

''Ey, you!'' Alfred pinned his nails in the railing of the balcony, his heart pumped the adrenaline through his veins. The guards had stopped…

((I love cliffhangers, especially when I'm the one writing XD))


	30. Chapter 30 A surprise for the Brit

His blood ran cold. Alfred knew he wouldn't be able to talk himself out of this. He turned his head to the guards. He could have been able to talk himself out of getting caught at the prison building in the camp, he would just have said he got lost. It would be difficult to convince them, but he would have probably been able to do so.

But this, this was far worse than just hanging around at the wrong place. He had freed a prisoner of war, provided him with a uniform to prevent getting caught, stolen files and replaced them.

When he looked at the guards, he could see the stressed expression on Ludwigs face, staring into the night, like he hoped if he ignored them, they would go away.

''My lighter is out of fuel, can we borrow yours?'' one of them asked. Astonished, Alfred stared at them. A lighter? Just a lighter? Which almost caused him a heart attack! ''Err… yes, of course'' he said, while taking the lighter out of his pocket, almost dropping it on the rails before handing it to the guards.

Alfred wanted to leave immediately, but after seeing the suspicious look of the guards about his nervous acting, he decided to stay instead of telling them they could keep the lighter. That would only make the suspicion worse.

After the guards lit their cigarettes, they went into the last wagon, although it was forbidden to smoke inside, because of fire risk. Alfred signed to Ludwig to follow him and throw the cigarette away.

This was also a difficult part, they had to cross a long corridor, on each side coupés . In all of those, they were people, most of them asleep but some were still awake. If someone looked through the window on the inside of the train and recognized Ludwig, everyone in the train would be alarmed in less than twenty seconds.

Although the men in the coupés weren't armed, soldiers who were would be here in no time. Alfred felt the scar of the bullet itch on his leg, he remembered the flaming pain being shot.

The American kept his eyes focused on the numbers above the doors of the coupés. When he looked back, he could see the German had pulled the cap on his head far over his head, almost totally covering his eyes to prevent getting recognized.

_26! _They had made it! They were at the coupé! Alfred opened the door and pushed Ludwig in, who didn't seem to understand that he had to go inside. Alfred followed him and closed the door behind them.

When he again turned around, the first thing he saw was the terrified expression on Arthurs face, who sat up straight in his bunk bed, his back against the wall. ''What the bloody hell is /he/ doing here!'' Arthur shouted, staring at Ludwig before staring at Alfred.

''Ssh! Be quiet!'' Alfred quickly whispered to Arthur, hoping with all his heart that Arthur would listen. But clearly the shock of waking up and seeing the face of a German guard was too much of a shock to listen or calm down.

''Get him out of here! Kill him! Throw him off the train! Shoot him! I don't care, just get rid of him!'' Arthur continued yelling at Alfred.

At that moment, Gilbert stepped in and put his hand on the mouth of Arthur. ''Alfred will explain, after that you can continue screaming and panicking'' Arthur didn't seem really satisfied with that plan, but he kept quiet, also after Gilbert removed his hand.

A few worried fellow passengers got out of their own coupé and walked towards theirs. Alfred quickly opened the door again. ''Just a nightmare'' he explained to them. The others seemed to hesitate for a moment but this excuse wasn't very rare. In the past few weeks at the camp, there had been more people who had woken up screaming, remembering the horrors in the camp.

They returned and Alfred quickly closed the door again.

''Well, there isn't much explaining I think… But you know he wouldn't get a fair trial in court, they will just be looking for someone to blame everything on. And, have you ever caught him in being cruel to anyone in the camp?'' Alfred tried to convince Arthur.

Arthur glanced at Alfred, a vicious look in his eyes. ''You forget things real quick, don't you? He killed that teen in front of everyone, including you. And he shot you in your leg! What do you mean, he isn't cruel?!'' His voice was again slightly raising.

Alfred sighed. ''I have explained you several times. He shot Mark because he was ill, he would have died anyway. And he shot me for obvious reasons, we were trying to escape. What would you have done?''

Arthur sighed. ''You're only trying to cover up his crimes.'' Occasionally, he glanced at Ludwig, still not trusting him, like any minute the rest of the German guards could storm into the coupé and take them back to that camp.

''And what are you planning to do next? He will be caught when he tries to board the ship, if he even makes it until then'' Arthur snarled.

''I took care of that, you don't have to worry about that'' Alfred reinsured him. ''Worry about /him/?! I'm worried about my own life when he gets caught, because I haven't reported him!'' Arthur snapped. ''So you're not going to report him to anyone? Thank you Arthur, I knew I could trust you!'' Alfred quickly said.

Arthur sighed deeply. ''That was not what I said'' he grumbled under his breath, still glaring at Ludwig. ''Tell him to stay inside of this coupé and away from me. And I think I don't even want to know how you got him out of his cell or get him on that boat. Just don't bring anyone else in trouble.''

Alfred nodded quickly, he didn't repeat it to Ludwig, knowing the German knew enough English to understand to stay inside. ''Yes, okey, thanks!''

''And don't think I accept that filthy nazi, I'm just tolerating him'' Arthur growled, sending a look in disdain and Ludwig. The German seemed to want to respond to the insult but wisely, he kept his mouth shut.


	31. Chapter 31 A surprise for a German

Some noise at the door woke Ludwig up, he stood up, waiting until the door would open, expecting a guard. The train was still moving, so he expected a revenge actions from the guard who opened the door. Unable to fight the Germans their selves, the guards took their anger out on the prisoners from the German side.

Ludwig had experienced that anger multiple times before in his cell, being beaten by a few guards. He had heard Alfred apologize, but it wasn't his fault. Maybe it was his own fault, he was the one who enlisted in the army, and he was the one who enlisted, after being fired from the army because of his bad leg, to work at the camp.

No, he hadn't known what happened at the camp, but he had also been taught since he was very young that they weren't real people. But now he was that close to them, he was starting to doubt. They could feel pain and fear, had emotions, act and talk like a human.

Were they really that different? Ludwig kept his doubts silent, he would have been shot if anyone would have found out. He started to make excuses to prevent being scheduled at the nighttime shootings.

At the camp, he had also again met the American. That was actually quite a surprise. The first time he had met him, he had still been in the army, in the trenches.

''Move forward!'' the captain ordered. Ludwig and a few others climbed out of the trenches, rifles in their hands and ran towards the enemies lines, the gasmask on their faces. It was just after a gas attack, it was still dangerous to enter without any protection. Probably every soldier inside of that trench would be dead now, they hadn't heard any noise anymore after the gas.

The Germans climbed over the barbed wire, resulting in a few cuts but nothing seriously.

They had almost reached the American trenches. The first body they saw, had blonde hair. One of the Germans kicked the body of to steal his cigarettes, the American ones were much better. A unconscious moan was the reaction. The Germans jumped back, startled, not expecting the soldier to still be alive. They pointed the ends of their rifles at them.

''Let…ter'' the enemy mumbled, still knocked, probably not even knowing what he was saying. Going from unconscious to consciousness.

Ludwig looked up when he saw one of the newbie's taking a step towards the unconscious soldier. For some reason, Ludwig wanted to save this Americans life, although he couldn't think of a good reason himself. ''Wait!'' he ordered. The newbie froze in his tracks, looking up in confusion.

''But… he's an American'' the soldier said, when Ludwig looked at him, he couldn't be much older than 17, lying about his age to get in the army sooner. ''I know, but he could provide useful information. He was talking about a letter''

The soldier stepped back again. After being shot and returning to the front, Ludwig had earned a lot of respect of his fellow soldiers. That's probably why the newbie backed away.

The other soldiers hadn't been as lucky as this American, killed by the gas.

The captain had first been skeptical, he didn't like taking prisoners, but after Ludwig had told him that he could provide them with useful information about where the rest of the allies were, he had agreed in keeping him alive.

They hadn't found the letter where the soldiere had been talking about, but they had found weapons and his dogs tags.

''Alfred F. Jones, American'' Ludwig read softly, again looking down at the American, who was still unconscious. He looked a bit pale with red eyes of the gas, Ludwig had no idea if this Alfred F. Jones would ever be able to see again or would be blind forever. He hadn't been wearing a gasmask so it was even a miracle he had survived.

It wasn't a guard who opened the door, it was Alfred! Ludwig had almost thought the American had forgotten him. He quickly got up from the floor. Alfred gave him an American uniform and told him to put it on.

Alfred hadn't told much about the escape plan, just that he had to trust him. Ludwig quickly got into the new clothes, they were a bit too short, but they would do. It was good to put on new clothes, he had been in the same uniform for weeks after their departure at the camp.

He felt all his courage disappear when they almost got caught by the guards. He had trouble to maintain calm, like nothing was wrong.

The next obstacle was when they entered the coupé. He knew Arthur, not really good, but he knew it was a friend of Gilbert and Alfred and a Brit.

The Brit freaked out, Ludwig thought he had at least informed the others. But apparently he hadn't. Ludwig heard the doors of other coupés open, just a few more seconds and he would have been caught!

After Alfred had explained it to Arthur, the Brit seemed to have calmed down a bit, although he was still glaring furiously at Ludwig. But Ludwig could understand why, he had locked him up for months and let go of the dogs when they had escaped. The Brit still had the scars of the bite wounds.


	32. Chapter 32 Lili Marleen

**((I'm thinking about writing a sequel. Anyone interested in reading a story about Ludwig in America?))**

Alfred woke up when the train stopped, a high squeaking noise. He looked around, a bit disorientated, seeing first Gilbert and Arthur, before seeing Ludwig. He again remembered yesterday, he had freed the German. He was slightly starting to get doubts, how was he ever going to get Ludwig on the boat?

But he couldn't go back now anymore, Ludwig had also protected him in that camp, he wouldn't have survived it without him. Alfred put him legs over the edge of the bed and jumped out of the bunk bed.

He could see the dark circles around the Germans eyes, he had clearly stayed awake the whole night, circles around the Germans eyes, he had clearly stayed awake the whole night, maybe scared, maybe curious about America.

Other Americans walked through the corridor in the train, Ludwig quickly pulled the cap deeper over his face, trying not to be recognized.

''We'll leave the train when most are already gone'' Alfred said to Arthur and Gilbert. ''We'll wait for you there'' Gilbert replied, having his papers in his hand to let them be checked at the checkpoint, just before the harbor.

When the deserter and the Britt left the coupé, Alfred started gathering the documents they needed to get on board. Ludwig was still trying out of sight of the other passengers of the train.

What if he was able to get Ludwig on board? What if they actually made it to America? He would have to get a new identity and get rid of the German accent. But another major problem: a job. In order to fit into society, he would need a job.

A job in the city was too dangerous, he would get caught easily, he would have to talk to many people and if only one found out about his true nationality, everything would have been for nothing.

A job in the countryside could maybe work, Alfred knew that before the war, the farmers didn't really care where their workers came from. Ludwig was strong and healthy enough to work at a farm. But Alfred didn't know if the farmers still thought the same way about the nationality of their workers, especially after the war. And a lot of Jews had fled to America, they would surely be suspicious to a non-Jewish newcomer.

One slight mistake and everything was lost. One step at the time, Alfred thought, waking up from his thoughts and taking the papers from under his pillow. He handed Ludwig his falsified papers. ''You won't speak a word, do you understand?'' he asked, looking Ludwig straight in the eyes to make clear this was serious business. ''They won't even think a moment before shooting us both if they suspect anything.'' The German nodded slowly, staring at the papers, very different from the German papers.

Alfred peeked into the corridor, seeing almost everyone had left the train. He signed to Ludwig to follow him. When they got out of the train, it was clear that they hadn't waited long enough, a very long queue in front of the checkpoint. At the beginning of a harbor a huge crowd of French people, wanting to see the Americans, some of them shouting English to them.

Alfred shortly looked at Ludwig, seeing him tensing up and staring straight at the ground. He was attracting a lot of attention to a few armed soldiers at the sides of the harbor. ''Come'' Alfred hissed to Ludwig, walking towards the end of the queue.

There weren't only Americans from the camp they had been, but also from other camps. They were busy with talking to the other freed POWs. ''Have you seen my brother? Have you seen my father?'' were common questions.

Ludwig was quiet, but that didn't raise suspicion among the others, he wasn't the only one. Some Americans were also silent as the grave, having heard about the loss of their family or just shocked by the horrors of the camp, staring at the sea or the ground.

It took a long time before they got in the front of the queue. Alfred wasn't really worried anymore, seeing how the papers were checked. They were quickly opened, looking if the face matched with the picture, handing back the papers and giving them the number of their chamber. The ship wasn't really large so they had to share the chamber with some others.

Ludwig seemed still a bit nervous when they checked the papers, but the guards didn't even seem to notice. They directed them to their chamber, number 110B.

A Canadian and someone from California were their roommates. They were already in the room. They both had been in the same camp, a work camp. Instead of digging graves like Alfred had been forced to, they had had to work on farms, far into German territory. There weren't much POWs that had survived.

The Germans had been there one moment and the next moment they had disappeared, leaving them in the camp. They had fled when they heard the allies were coming closer, not even bothering about what to do with the prisoners. The Germans had been caught by allied soldiers, leading them to the camp.

The man from California stood up from his bunkbed, walking towards Ludwig and Alfred to greet them. ''Hello, I'm Luke and that's Thomas'' turning to the Canadian while stretching his hand out. Alfred shook his hand. ''Alfred, and that's… Jack…'' he couldn't think of a name at the moment, the first name that he thought of was the name of his dog back in America. And he couldn't just say Ludwigs real name, that would immediately make clear that he was a German.

But the Californian seemed to take the bait, also shaking Ludwigs hand. They talked for about thirty minutes, the whole time Ludwig stayed quiet.

The Canadian had seen his brother being killed before his eyes in the war, a bullet just missed him and hit his brother in the head, he died immediately. They didn't even have the time to bury him, having to leave this instant because they were being chased by the Germans. His family still didn't know his brother had died.

When in a moment of silence, they heard people in the other room singing. Singing a well-known song, Lili Marlene. The Californian joined in, maybe his voice a bit hoarse. Soon, the Canadian also started singing.

''Outside the barracks, by the corner light, I'll always stand and wait for you at night, we will create a world for two,I'll wait for you the whole night through, for you, Lili Marleen, for you, Lili Marleen.''

Alfred noticed he had also started singing the words, the last time he had heard this song, he had still been in the trenches. The last night in the trenches actually. But he had to keep cautious, looking carefully at Ludwig. It would be weird if he didn't sing with them, suspicious.

Alfred frowned when he also saw Ludwig singing. He knew the song? How did he even know the words?

'' Give me a rose to show how much you care, tie to the stem a lock of golden hair,surely tomorrow you'll feel blue,but then will come a love that's new, for you, Lili Marleen, for you, Lili Marleen.''

His German accent was barely hearable when so many others were singing too, it seemed like the whole corridor was now.

**((The song is Lili Marlene, a song of the Germans. But the English soldiers liked the song that much that they translated the song into English. That's how Ludwig recognized the song))**


	33. Chapter 33 Statue of Liberty

Till so far, Luke and Thomas hadn't found out about 'Jacks' true identity. Ludwig stayed inside of the room most of the time, not wanting to get recognized by others from the camp. Luke, the Californian, was talking most of the time, even after such a long time in those camps, he was still cheery, always making jokes.

It wasn't weird and uncommon for someone to stay inside most of the time, there were more soldiers who were either too injured to leave on their own or just wanted to be left alone after all those horrors.

Alfred did go out often, to see Arthur and Gilbert. It had taken a while for the other POWs to accept Gilbert but they had in the end, at least most of them. Arthur was already making plans for when he got back in England, he wanted to leave the city and start a life somewhere far away from the deep scars of the war in London.

Gilbert on the other hand, he wanted to go to New York and stay there, America had barely been attacked on their own land and see. And he would have a better chance of finding work and a new life in a big city.

Alfred would just return to his family on the countryside. He still had to think of something to tell to his family why he had left America, wanting to fight the Germans in the war and returning with a German. He was sure of it that his family would certainly not like it, especially his father who would most likely glare at him and refuse to speak a word.

His younger siblings were probably even angrier at him, first seeing their older brother as their hero who was going to save the whole of America and returning with the enemy. John would surely not even want to speak with him anymore, he had wanted to go with Alfred when he was send to Europe, but of course he couldn't because he was too young. Alfred had promised the boy that he would fight twice as hard.

And then the day came that they arrived at the port at the English coast. The same day as Germany had officially surrendered. Arthur was on deck, with Gilbert and Arthur. For once, Ludwig had decided it was safe enough to get out of the room, but still making sure his face couldn't be seen properly.

There wasn't much time to say goodbye, they had to go on. Arthur didn't seem really happy that Ludwig was around, he had never changed his mind about helping a German, but he ignored him.

First Gilbert said goodbye, Arthur wished him a good life in America. It was most likely that they would never see each other again.

After that, Alfred greeted him for the last time. A short flash of the camp went through his mind, all the different greetings in all kinds of languages and then the English response, feeling like a lifeline.

''You're crazy for saving that German, but that same craziness probably saved your life in that camp'' Arthur whispered to him, making sure nobody around them could hear those words.

It was late spring, a lot warmer than in that horrible winter. Almost everyone was wearing shirts with short sleeves. As Alfred saw Arthur leaving the ship, he saw the half circles of scars on his arms, the result of the dogs who had bitten him when they had escaped.

It was a lot quieter after all the Brits had left the ship, the Americans loosing friends they had been together with 24/7 for months, some years. Gilbert moved to the same room, where he had slept first had been full of Brits, now empty.

Alfred left with Luke and Thomas to smoke a cigarette on deck, just chatting about what they would do when back in America, when Alfred noticed he had left his cigarettes in the cabin.

He walked back through the corridors and opened the door. The speaking immediately muted, but Alfred had caught a few words. ''German?!'' he asked irritated, looking into the corridor if anyone had heard them speaking before slamming the door. ''Do you guys want to die?!'' he said angry. ''Have you got any idea what will happen if they catch you speaking German?!'' Alfred was beyond furious, what if not he but Luke had forgotten his cigarettes?

Gilbert spoke up first. ''Calm down. It's not like anyone vould hear us speaking'' he replied. ''But what if anyone did? Two Germans on a ship full of angry, revengeful Americans. You would be torn to pieces and nobody could save you from that. It isn't safe to speak German'' Alfred bellowed.

It was quiet for a moment before the other German spoke up. ''Sorry'' Ludwig apologized. Alfred could understand it why they were speaking German, after such a long time not being able to speak your mother language, even longer then Alfred had been refrained from it, it must have been hard not to speak German while the other one could speak it too.

But it was just too dangerous to speak it, the crew and captain of this ship would have had no control of the angry Americans and probably not even try to hold them back from lynching the two.

At that moment, Thomas and Luke also returned to the cabin, wondering where Alfred was. For the rest of the trip, Alfred never caught the two speaking German again.

''You're not my son anymore'' It was his father who spoke to him, looking at him like he was a stranger. His family was sitting at the kitchen table, just staring at him, in anger and disapproval. His mother didn't even look at him, John glaring at him in fury. Alfred stood there, confused, not knowing what to do. This was his family, but they abandoned him. ''Get out!'' his father suddenly shouted, jumping up, knocking his chair on the ground. ''And take that bloody nazi with you!''

Alfred woke up startled, sweating and breathing heavily. Next to his bed, an exited Gilbert rambling about something. His worst nightmare, his families disapproval of what he had done. He tried to calm down, trying to forget the dream. Gilbert seemed to notice that Alfred wasn't paying attention. ''The statue of liberty!'' he shouted in his ear.

Slowly, Alfred became to realize he was back, he was finally back in America!


	34. Chapter 34 Homecoming of a soldier

**((I'm sooo sorry for not updating for such a long time. But I promise I'm back now, otherwise you have permission to drag me back to my computer to write another chapter, or just review/pm))**

He jumped out of bed, the blanket falling of the bed on the ground. Luke and Thomas were celebrating with a bottle of some kind of liquor. Alfred had no idea how they had gotten that bottle, liquor was strictly forbidden on board of the ship. But that didn't matter now.

Ludwig seemed a bit less excited than Gilbert and the rest, but he acted along, drinking with the others to their return to America. Outside of the cabin, they could hear other celebrating Americans, singing mocking songs about the Germans.

They had to pack quickly, the ship would leave the same day again to pick up even more POWs in Europe, bringing them back to their homes. There wasn't much to pack, just some small things, like a hidden medal or stolen stuff, nothing much bigger than a hand palm.

Stepping off the ship, Alfred could see the American flag waving in the wind. A feeling of braveness and proud went through his veins.

Gilbert had to hurry to catch the subway to get to the city. There he would start his new life. Alfred handed him a small piece of paper with his address, if he ever got into trouble and had to get out of New York. Just before the doors of the subway closed, Alfred saw Gilberts sign of fighting in the war, a scar over his eye, a permanent reminder to never return there.

Ludwig and he would go to the train station, there they would catch the train that would bring them to Alfreds family. Till so far, his family didn't even know Ludwig existed. And knowing he couldn't fool his family, he would have to tell the truth about the heritage of Ludwig. If his name wouldn't do that for him.

After a few hours in the train, it was almost completely empty, just a few other passengers, looking almost staring at the two homecoming soldiers. Litting a cigarette, Alfred thought for a few moments, handing Ludwig the lighter. ''It's best if you tell my family the truth, they will find out either way'' he said, soft enough to prevent any eavesdroppers hearing anything.

Ludwig didn't seem really calm about that prospect, for the last few months he had been hated by almost every new person he saw. Ludwigs bruises of the beatings had healed in a short period of time, but Alfred knew that there were deeper scars beyond superficial marks. The war had scarred them all, but when a few could try the best they could to forget it, Ludwig would have to be on his toes for ever when in the cave of the lion.

Early in the morning, they arrived at the trainstation where Alfred had gotten on the train many years ago, going to fight in the war in Europe. What a difference, here in America they had said that the war was a good thing, a noble thing. But you only realized the truth about war when you were in the middle of one, when the bullets killed fellow soldiers right next to you.

There wasn't anyone on the station, nobody knew that they were coming home. Alfred looked back at Ludwig, who seemed even more nervous than at first. A short flashback reminded Alfred that his father had a gun in the cabin in the kitchen. It was risky, but he would have to take the chance.

Walking back the road to the house he had left alone, he could see a few figures in the front of the farm, playing with a ball or something like that, until a dog started barking. So Jack was still alive, Alfred thought happily, he had missed that dog.

The figures stopped and looked at the road, although they were still far away, the children seemed to know who was walking there. The first one to reach him was the dog, he had grown old since Alfred had last seen him but he was still heavy and strong enough to jump at him and knock him down to the ground. Jack ignored Ludwig completely, like he wasn't even there.

The second one was John, greeting his elder brother happily, but at the same time glancing at the unknown soldier next to him. ''Where have you been, we all thought you were dead'' John asked, not letting go of Alfred, afraid of losing him again. ''You went get rid of me that easily'' Alfred grinned, ruffling through Johns hair, before walking back to the house.

The twin boys were next to greet him, they were even more suspicious about the other one. ''Who are you?'' one asked rudely, staring at him. Before Ludwig could even open his mouth to answer, the other half of the twin added a few words to his brother comment. ''You look like a Kraut'' Alfred grinned when seeing the startled expression on Ludwigs face. ''You didn't manage to keep up that pretext for long, huh?'' he chuckled. His grinning became even worse when he saw the helpless look on Ludwigs face.

''It'll be fine'' he tried to assure him, pushing him against his shoulder, before walking to the door. His siblings had been making such a noise, that his mother had walked to the door to check what was wrong. She froze when she saw her long lost son. ''Mother…'' Alfred said softly, before hugging her, not letting her go for at least a minute.

Ludwig was standing a few meters back, a bit uncomfortable, while the children were trying to figure out who he was and where he came from. ''Who's that?'' his mother whispered to Alfred, also curious about the stranger.

''Ehm… mom… this is… ehm… Ludwig'' he said, hesitating about telling the truth. His mothers face turned to stone, staring at Ludwig. ''That's a German name, isn't it?'' she asked, her voice as ice cold as her face.

**((And again, you got all permission to drag me to the computer to make me write another chapter. But reviews would also help a lot!))**


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